Of Thimbles and Kings
by pieanddeductions
Summary: Sequel to I Wish The Shadow Would Take Me Away.
1. Chapter 1

**The Monster In The Cage**

**Prologue**

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><p><em>AN: Helloooo! Sorry about the delay on the sequel! I won't babble on too much here. I just hope you like it!_

_Disclaimer: much to my absolute anguish, I don't own any of the settings or characters within this fic. Just borrowing them for a bit if that's okay :)_

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><p>"Who are you?" The boy tightened his fingers around his hammer and tried to stop them from shaking along with his voice. He didn't look at the girl as he spoke, although he felt her shift towards him inside her cage. He hadn't seen her face since he'd arrived but her voice, and the confirmation of the Boys who had been here since before her imprisonment, assured him that she was indeed a girl. A person, not a creature. He knew it was probably not wise to ask, but he was not wise. He was drawn to danger, to the thrill of it. That was why Peter Pan had let him stay in Neverland.<p>

Because he was brave. Because he was reckless enough to believe in anything and everything.

"I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours. You're new here, are you not?" her voice was soft, but he didn't let that fool him. He had been told about her; the way she liked to make deals. The way she liked to lie. He had been so afraid when he was first sent to stand guard for her. Afraid, and excited. That was the day it was decided; that he was a Lost Boy, well and truly. Guarding the girl in the cage was his honour.

"I don't have to tell you anything," he said.

"Hmm. I suppose I'll have to give you a name myself, then," she mused. When he turned around, she was pressed against the side of the cage, fingers looped through the gaps. He could see her eyes- blue, wide. Human. They were fixed on him.

"My, you've got curly hair," she murmured. "How about that? Curly." She grinned, although he could only see half of it. Adrenaline kept him rooted to the spot, perplexed. She didn't seem to him to be monstrous. That must be the most dangerous thing about her, he thought.

"My name isn't Curly."

"Too late," she said mischievously. "You had your chance to choose your name. Don't you know? If you don't do it quickly, somebody else will choose one for you."

"Nobody chooses their own name," he told her.

"Sure they do," she said. "I, for example, am Red Handed Jill." Her eyes were glinting through the bars. "So named because of the blood of my enemies that simply soaks the earth wherever I go," she was whispering, and he was closer than he'd first thought. With a start, he jolted back, raising his hammer in front of him in warning.

"Don't try anything," he spat bravely. "I'm not stupid. I've heard the stories."

"Well _I _haven't," she said. "Tell me, what do they say about me? What does Pan tell his new recruits to make them fear the monster in the cage?"

"He tells us the truth," he said. He felt a rush of pride, then. Pride at being a Lost Boy. Pride at being _Pan's _Lost Boy. He had a leader who did not spout rules at him. He had a leader who let him do whatever he wanted. He would not let him down.

"And yet," she said, "he did not tell you my name." There was a note of victory in her voice.

He hesitated, because he could not deny that she was right. Pan would let him do whatever he wanted. But he would not tell him everything. He knew more about the mysterious Truest Believer than he did about the girl in the cage, and the little he knew, he'd heard from Tootles and Nibs. His curiosity singed him, wavering his loyalty. He felt like he would be letting Pan down, if he asked for her name, and he would not let Pan down. He wouldn't.

But as it turned out, it wasn't up to him.

"My name is Wendy Darling," the girl said, clearly, so that there was no chance of him mishearing her, and he was suddenly full of the satisfaction of_ knowing_- and the guilt of knowing that he shouldn't know. "Tell me, Curly, are you really scared of me?"

He flinched and looked away. He didn't _have_ to talk to her. In fact, he shouldn't talk to her. So he returned to his silent post, staring into the forest.

He didn't see the smile that twisted Wendy Darling's face as she slid back, letting herself lean against the back of the cage. He was afraid of her, alright. The way that he jumped around her, too scared to speak- it was glaringly obvious.

"Good," she whispered to herself, and if the Lost Boy could hear her, he said nothing in response.

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><p>Wendy didn't know how long she'd been stuck in that cage. At first, she'd tried counting, keeping track- but she knew from her game with Pan that in Neverland, such strategies would do her no good. So she gave up, and let her limbs curl in, and let the Boys who came to guard her think she was just stewing in there, plotting against them.<p>

In a way, she was.

In a way, she liked it.

She liked the reputation she was given, hand-crafted ever so courteously for her by none other than Peter Pan himself. She liked that they were afraid of her- and she liked that Pan himself must be afraid as well, for since she'd first awoken in her cramped prison, he hadn't come to see her once. She had played the game of waiting, at first; waiting for him to come back. Waiting to see his face, hear his smug taunts or desperate excuses. Waited for an opportunity to spit in his face, to tell him what she really thought of him. But as time passed, and he did not come, she grew tired of waiting. Still the fact that he was constantly sending Lost Boys to bring her food and water and let her out of the cage if only to wash herself, meant that he hadn't forgotten her. They would replace her cage on occasion, each slightly bigger, each slightly stronger. Each less relenting when she shoved her all weight against it, tearing at the twigs.

She had escaped from her first cage that way- slowly working at the back wall, making a hole, then making it bigger. She had slipped out at night, and the Lost Boy on duty hadn't seen her leave- at least, that was what the boy said. Truthfully, it had been Tootles who had watched over her that night. He had been the one to tell her that Rufio had died. It couldn't have been more than a few days since she'd been captured, and she'd begged him for the truth. When he gave it to her, he'd seen the look in her eyes and he knew that her friendship wasn't a lie. He'd let her run. He'd hoped that she would make it. But Pan had known. Somehow, Pan always knew. He sent Felix to stop her, and he'd blown poppy dust in her face.

That made it the second time Wendy had woken up in a cage.

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><p>It was a dull life, but not so dull as one might think. She entertained herself via the boys who guarded her. When Tootles did it (which was an infrequent occurrence as it was), she could merely talk to him; he would tell her of the games they had played that day, or of new Boys who arrived on the island. But normally, she enjoyed playing up to her menacing reputation- making dark, malicious statements, singing songs of blood and death, claiming that she knew just how to curse a boy if he didn't give her the information she wanted. It was amusing when it worked, and it was amusing when it didn't, because then, she watched them squirm. If they didn't believe that she was a hideous monster than that meant that they didn't believe Pan, and that would make them a traitor. It wasn't a position any Lost Boy wanted to be in, and Wendy loved to gently push them into it.<p>

Curly was the newest of the Lost Boys.

Wendy liked him, as much as she could possibly like a member of Pan's impossible group of Disciples. He was brave, and curious, and stubborn. She commended Pan for choosing to keep him. She knew from Tootles that Pan hadn't been keeping many of the Boys the Shadow brought back anymore. He'd discarded dozens, sending them back to their homes. He sent them howling. Wendy heard their screams, and she wondered what they had each done to endure Pan's wrath. Of course, she knew it wasn't so much a question of what they had done to be banished, but of what the others had done to make him like them enough to let them remain.

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><p>She sighed as the first rays of sunlight began to touch her face. The nights were bearable, but the days were endless boredom. The days were when the Boys would play, and, aside from somebody being sent to slide an apple through to her as cautiously as one might feed a python, she was left to her own devices, with nothing to do but think. Thinking, she quickly discovered, was its own kind of torture. So Wendy made a point not to think about herself or a predicament- for that would do her no good. Instead, she dedicated her time to noticing things. She noticed the island. She noticed that, even while the sun was shining, there were layers of grey clouds not far away, threatening to swallow it up. She noticed that there was a certain kind of bird- a tiny, green one- that had made its nest in the tree to her left. She noticed that it fed on blue berries, even though Pan had told her that they were poisonous when she had tried to eat them, once. She noticed the Lost Boys- when they would run past her in the midst of a game. Nibs had lost two of his fingers, no doubt playing a variation of one of their more deadly games. Tootles was becoming thin, and fast. Why, just the other day, she'd seen him catch Slightly in a game of tag, and everyone knew that Slightly was quick. Curly had been dropped into the ocean when he'd arrived, and Felix had swum out to retrieve him- only to find Curly battling the waves perfectly well on his own.<p>

Felix, though his smile was still a rare sight, was thriving. He was Pan's second in command, his champion, his trusted advisor. He wore that title like it was a crown of gold around his head. How long would it take, Wendy wondered, before he realised that, even though he was back in Pan's good graces, he still didn't have what he wanted? She hated Felix for a thousand reasons, but somehow, when she thought about that, she felt a little sorry for him. He was fooling himself, and that never ended well. She should know.

Then there was Hook. Tootles had told her of what had happened- how he had finally been able to leave Neverland in search of his revenge. She was glad of that; glad that one of the three friends she'd had on the island had managed to get what they wanted. She still wasn't sure what his revenge was to be, but if she were to hazard a guess, she would say it must have something to do with the woman called Milah- the one whose necklace she still wore. The necklace Pan had given her. Pan, and not Peter- not anymore.

He was one of the two people whom Wendy hadn't seen since she'd been trapped, and for that, she was pleased. On the one hand, it filled her with satisfaction, knowing that she had affected him enough that he couldn't bear to see her face. On the other, it filled her with relief- for he had hurt her too, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and she feared that if she looked him in the eye, she might have to admit it- at least to herself.

Tinkerbell was the second person Wendy hadn't seen, and this time, she wasn't pleased at all. She wanted to see her old friend, more than anything else.

_Wendy is my friend._

It was the last thing she'd heard her say, and then she had heard her be slapped down for it, punished because she'd refused to betray Wendy. She wanted, so very much, to tell her that she was her friend, too. But even Tootles hadn't been able to tell her of the fairy's fate- for what had happened to Tinkerbell was so secret that he guessed only Peter Pan and Felix would know. Wendy didn't plan on ever speaking to Pan again, and Felix wouldn't tell her if she asked.

That was another thing that Wendy tried not to think about.

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><p><em>The next chapter should be up at some point tomorrow. Stuff will actually start happening then :P<em>

_Thank you for reading! Please do review and let me know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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><p><em>AN: oh my god thank you so much for following/favouriting/reviewing the prologue so quickly! I tried to update as fast as I could for you guys :), hope you like it! _

_Oh, also, you may want to read 'Scars'- the oneshot thing that I wrote about how Felix came to be a Lost Boy; it helps clarify a lot about his actions in this chapter, next chapter, and generally throughout this fic as well. Of course, you don't necessarily have to read it to understand the sequel- I'll reveal his backstory here a little later on in the story. Okay I'll shut up now goodbye friends!_

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><p>The Boys were playing hide and seek- or, a variation of it, at least. When they were found, they were tied to a tree by Felix. They were to be left there until dark. Motivation to win, Wendy supposed. It was the kind of game that she would have loved to play; the kind that shook the nerves and excited the heart. Games that made you realise that you were alive; those were the ones she liked best. She wondered if Pan had come up with this one.<p>

Probably, he had. After all, he was a monster.

Like her.

"I found Tootles!" Nibs cried triumphantly, and Wendy laughed to herself as she squinted, able to make out the poor boy being grabbed by the forearms and dragged to a tree, joining the boys already there. Curly had been hiding in the tallest branches of the tree with the tiny green bird- not that Nibs or Felix had found him yet. If only they would let her out to play, she would surely win this game. There was not a place nearby that she didn't know better than anyone. But of course, they were all too afraid of her to ask. So Nibs walked off in completely the wrong direction, and Curly was able to stay, safe and hidden.

"Idiots," she muttered to herself.

"They are, aren't they?"

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><p>She froze, not daring to move a single muscle. That voice. That<em> voice<em>. She closed her eyes, but she knew he was there, and she wanted to know how he was able to speak to her like that, so casually, as though the last time they'd spoken she hadn't called him a monster. As though he hadn't told her that he was what she'd made him as he walked away, leaving her in this cage, no more than somebody's pet bird.

"Did you hear me, Darling?" he said, impatient. "Or are you going to ignore me?"

_That. The second one._ She was going to ignore him, because she didn't know how not to. Because she had so many things to say, and not one of them was harsh enough, or gentle enough, to start with. Peter Pan was not somebody she had woken up expecting to see. She had not truly expected to ever see him again.

"Nibs, I understand," he went on conversationally. "But I didn't quite think that Felix would miss it. Hiding in the branches of a tree- isn't that generally the first place one would look?"

Nothing. She said nothing.

God, why was he here? And why now? She had no idea how long it had been, but she knew it had been no short amount of time since he'd bothered to visit. Now here he was, criticising his Lost Boys' ability to play Hide and Seek? Still refusing to speak, she opened her eyes. He was standing beside her cage, head tilted upwards, towards Curly's hiding spot. He was wearing the same green that he had always worn. He was too close.

She scrambled to the corner of her cage farthest from him, and she thought about how there was nowhere near enough room or air here. She breathed in slowly, calmly as she could.

"I hear you've been scaring my boys," he said. "Quite amusing, really. But then, I'm sure that's why you do it." He almost laughed. Then he stopped. "All of them, that is, but Tootles. Care to explain why Tootles might not be so afraid?"

No, she did not care to explain. She would not explain anything to him. It was only fair. She didn't even have to ask; she knew he wouldn't tell her a thing about Tinkerbell, and why she hadn't seen her.

"I see," he said, irritated now. "You're upset with me, are you? You'll just have to get over it, Wendy. Things won't be very pleasant for you if you don't."

Things weren't pleasant for her as it was. He should know, she didn't care about 'pleasant'.

He shrugged and turned around, beginning to walk away- and then he stopped, feet planted on the ground again. He came back.

"Is that it?" he said, and his voice was a little uneven now. "You've not seen me since your failed escape, and you have nothing to say?"

Nothing at all. She glared at him, even though she knew he probably couldn't see it. He didn't seem eager to get too close to the cage. Maybe he was beginning to believe his own stories about her, the monster in the cage.

He nodded, then. "Right. Well. See if I care. I know how you enjoy solitude." This time, when he walked away, he didn't come back.

Wendy waited until she could no longer feel his presence, hear his footsteps. Her heart was hammering, as though she had been running for life. She wished she had been able to run from him then. But above all, she wondered 'why'.

_I don't care, _she told herself. She couldn't care. It would be stupid to care. It would be letting Peter Pan affect her, and that would mean letting him win.

So she held her breath and counted to ten, and when she exhaled, she banished those curious, dangerous thoughts from her mind, focusing instead on Curly, hands growing sticky with sweat as he clung to his branch. She wondered whether it was strong enough to hold him up for much longer. She wondered whether Felix would climb the tree after him, or whether he would throw stones at the branch to make him fall down instead.

She wasn't a player in the game of hide and seek that day, for she had nowhere to hide, and no way of seeking. Yet, somehow, she was the most invested of them all.

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><p>Felix guarded her that night, mainly because everyone else was tied up to the tree, the cost of the game they had played and lost.<p>

In a way, Wendy was glad. Felix wasn't like the others, who would dare themselves to speak to her; dare themselves to take just one step closer to the lunatic in the cage. Felix didn't try to speak to her at all, because there was nothing that he needed to say. He had what he wanted, and Wendy, though still furious for what he put Tinkerbell through, had not the means to release her anger stuck in her prison. Besides, she couldn't quite summon the energy to feel truly angry. So she was able to close her eyes, willing herself to sleep, if only a little. Sleep was always hard to come by for Wendy, and being trapped with her knees nudging her chin and her arms circling her legs wasn't helping on that front.

After a good while of shifting, turning, scratching at insect bites on her arms, she found herself quite past the point of tiredness. Her eyes wouldn't stay shut, and her limbs were restless, craving movement.

"I want to get out," she said, and Felix glanced at her, surprised.

"Obviously," he said. "I suppose I don't have to tell you that you're never getting out."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that," she said, annoyed. "I meant I want to get out of this cage for a minute. I _need_ to, if you catch my drift."

She smirked as she felt Felix fumbling with the latch at the front of the cage then. Even though it was dark, she was sure he was blushing. She'd learned to be quite blunt about the somewhat awkward business of requiring Neverland's oh-so-spectacular bathroom facilities; it was no use trying to be delicate about it when the alternative was sitting in a cage arguing with her bladder. She slipped out of the cage, sighing as her feet touched dry leaves and dirt. Felix watched her with unmistakable distaste, and she knew that nobody hated to see her outside of her cage, even momentarily, more than he did. He gestured around the tree line.

"No running off."

"Of course not," she said sourly. "You know I would hate to inconvenience you like that."

"Stop talking," Felix muttered, and she shot him a glare as she made her way behind the trees. She thought about making a run for it, purely to irritate him, but thought better of it.

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><p>She took as much time as she could dragging herself back to the cage. It felt so strange to not have to be carried kicking and screaming into her prison. It felt like she was betraying herself by escorting herself back of her own accord.<p>

"Smart choice," Felix said, and Wendy glanced at him, wondering if that had possibly been intended as a compliment.

"Back to the bloody cage, then," she sighed, and he gestured towards the open door, stepping aside so she could crawl in_. _

_Traitor_.

That was what she felt. She had tried to run before and it had been useless, but at least that had felt like trying. This felt like giving up.

"You know Curly was in that tree the whole time," she said, stopping just before the cage entrance.

"What?"

"In your game today. Really, it was quite obvious."

Felix sighed, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to her knees, then into the cage. Her mouth twitched. That felt better- being forced.

"You're awfully chatty," he said. "For a prisoner."

"Always was. Won't stop now," she said simply. She hesitated. "Did you know that Pan came to my cage today?"

Felix's hands were on the door, pulling it shut- but he froze, then, leaving it halfway open. He didn't look at her, but his jaw was tight.

"I don't see how that's any business of mine," he said stiffly.

"I thought it might be. I thought that he might tell you these things, now that you're his second in command again."

"I don't care," he decided, and he shut the door with relish. "I don't care what you thought."

"But you care what he thinks," she said bluntly. She surveyed Felix through the bars. Last time she had implied anything akin to this, he had slapped her across the face so hard she'd lost her balance. Now, he just shook his head.

"Stop talking," he said again, more softly than she could have anticipated.

In the midst of deciding whether or not to keep talking just to spite him, a wave of fatigue drained Wendy, pulling her eyes closed. Resting her head on her own, bony shoulder, she allowed herself to drift away.

She dreamed of so much that night that she couldn't possibly remember all of it the next day. But there were details; parts of it that did stay with her.

A tall London house with an open window.

Two young boys, beckoning to her in a field of green, smiles as familiar as the inside of her prison.

A smooth black stone on a corded necklace.

A pirate ship, hammered down with rain, and a boy sitting beside her, his hand over her heart.

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><p>Wendy awoke to light; bright light beating down on her without mercy. Her cage door was wide open, unhinged, as though somebody had hacked at it with an axe, breaking it down entirely. As though someone had been trying to…free her?<p>

"Take your time waking up, Darling." She flinched, and as she blinked sleep from her eyes, she registered Peter Pan, blocking the way out of the cage with his arms crossed. She kept her gaze down. She had heard his voice the day before, but this was different. There was no barrier to separate the two of them now, and if she tilted her head even a little bit she would see his face. She really didn't want to do that.

"Aren't you going to say hello?"

She bit her tongue. The only possible victory or dignity she could hope to gain now was to defy him, to not give him what he wanted. She wouldn't speak to him today, and she wouldn't speak to him tomorrow.

"Well, then," he said, voice suddenly stentorian. "Let's see if a familiar face can make you recall your manners." He stepped aside, grabbing something from behind her cage, and Wendy heard the unmistakable sound of someone struggling against bond limbs. Straightening up, she crawled from her cage into the light, following Peter cautiously to the large tree that the Lost Boys had spent the night tied to. Except, now, there were no Boys there. Now, there was only one figure bound to the trunk, and it was small and green and filthy.

_Tinkerbell._

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><p>Wendy was running, closing the distance between them as fast as she could-<p>

And then she slammed into Peter as he appeared between them, and she fell back from him at once. His touch stung her, more than anything because it did not used to. That there had been a time when it had been something other than repulsive to her wasn't a pleasant recollection.

"I caught this one," he said, rounding on Wendy, "trying to set you free. She knocked your guard unconscious and everything. Quite a valiant effort, wouldn't you say? The sheer damage she managed to do to your cage. It's almost impressive."

"Wendy?" Tinkerbell's voice was just barely a whisper. She had always been small, but now she was awfully thin; the sleeves of her dress were loose around her arms, and her face was smeared with dirt and blood. She didn't quite resemble a fairy anymore. More like a broken person. Her eyes widened as she locked on Wendy's own face, and she realised that maybe she, too, looked a little more broken now than she did the last time they had seen each other.

_The last time they had seen each other._ Wendy's smile was trembling as she remembered; she had meant to stay with Tinkerbell until she woke up in the Treasure Cave. She hadn't done that. Her curiosity had got the better of her. If only she'd stayed where she was. If only she had kept true to her word.

"A touching reunion," Peter said, as though this was all somehow personally amusing to him. "I knew you'd want to see her, Darling. But that isn't why I brought you here."

Wendy shot him a look, silently screaming every curse and threat she knew.

Grin turned sour with malice, Peter uncurled a whip from his belt, holding it out between his two hands as he moved towards Tinkerbell.

Wendy and Tinkerbell looked at each other, neither of them eager to look at the whip. They knew what was coming. They knew what this was. It was hard to say whose heart sunk the fastest.

"Don't even think about interfering, Darling," he added, pleasantly- although his words were anything but. "Your job is to just stand there, and be an audience to this. Witness what becomes of those stupid enough to work against me." His finger brushes Tinkerbell's cheek and she shivered, flinching away from him.

And he expected that Wendy would do nothing about it. She snarled. As he faced Tinkerbell, Wendy made a run for it, straight for him, hands grabbing his belt from the back and searching for the dagger that he kept there-

In a heartbeat, he'd pushed her off him, with more force than he'd ever done before. Wendy stumbled backwards, falling over her own knees, and when she landed, she felt hands circle around her, trapping her where she was, unable to get up. Her arms were locked in grubby hands, and she twisted and snarled, turning to try to discover the identity of her captor.  
>Felix.<p>

Not that she was surprised.

She was all too pleased to note the red lump swollen on his forehead. He just grimaced, hauling her to her feet and dragging her across to a tree just opposite Tinkerbell's, as though she were a ragged doll. Wendy growled and gnashed her teeth, but it did her no good. Sitting in a cage all day had made her weak, and Felix was stronger than she remembered him ever being. Within a short while he had her tied up, ropes biting into her skin.

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><p>"Wendy!" Tinkerbell said, voice growing in strength. "I'm sorry, I didn't- I couldn't-"<p>

"Did I say you could talk?" Peter snapped.

"What do you want?" Tinkerbell asked stiffly. He smiled at her, if only to bare his teeth; an animal circling its prey.

"I made a promise to a mutual…friend," he said. "Captain Hook. I'm sure you remember."

"You told him that you wouldn't hurt me," she hissed.

"That I did," he bowed his head. "I intend to keep my promise, Tinkerbell. I always keep my promises. But, if you'll recall, I never said that no harm would come to you- only that it would not be by my hand."

Despicable. He was despicable. Wendy tasted blood as she bit her tongue trying to keep the words in.

"Felix," Pan called his second in command like he was a bloodhound; an animal to do his bidding. Either Felix was just that, or he didn't mind being mistaken for one. Obediently, he sauntered towards Tinkerbell, holding out his hand silently as Pan handed him the whip.

"Are you sure you want to punish her like this?"

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><p>Felix's question was surprising- to Wendy as well as Pan, apparently. Peter flicked a brow at the Lost Boy.<p>

"What alternative would you suggest?"

Felix swallowed hard; there were three sets of eyes fixed on him, and something told Wendy that he wasn't accustomed to such attention.

"I… would suggest," he muttered, "that is… maybe instead we should make her apologise."

"Apologise?" Pan repeated delicately.

Felix was turning red. "She would have to mean it," he went on, tripping over words as he tried to redeem himself, "she would have to really be sorry that she ever tried to defy you. She would have to promise not to do it again."

"That is how you would deal with it? Apologies and promises," Pan said, every word demeaning. "Felix…" he let out an unexpected laugh. "Brilliant." He clapped Felix on the back, and Felix sighed with his whole body.

"You think so?"

"This is why you are my second in command," he said. "Tinkerbell," he turned to her. "I am willing to let you go, back to your tree-house. Back to the miserable little life you've built for yourself. On the condition that you make it clear, both to myself, and to Wendy, that you are completely and entirely remorseful of your actions today, and that you never intend on doing it again."

Wendy had to stop herself from scoffing, because, really, Pan was being stupid. Not that she was going to complain; anything was better than her friend being whipped before her eyes. That was the strange part. Anything was better. Surely Pan knew that? How he equated Felix's (and, admittedly, her own) preferred conflict resolution with his own, inhumanely brutal one, was something she didn't understand.

Until, that was, Tinkerbell looked at her.

Her eyes were wide, a sick look taking residence within them, and her lip shook. To her, Wendy realised with a dull stab of horror, this was better. But to Tinkerbell, this was worse. This would feel like betrayal to Tinkerbell, and, if Wendy had been in her position, she would have felt it too. But she had to do it. She had to.

As best as she could, Wendy smiled at her, nodding, letting her know that it was alright. She had to do what she had to do.

But Tinkerbell just smiled back, shaking her head. She was beginning to cry, but silently- the kind of crying that Wendy hated most of all, because it was the kind that you couldn't stop, yet couldn't acknowledge.

_Wendy is my friend._

It had been the last thing Wendy had heard her say. She had been slapped for it, Wendy knew, but it occurred to her in that moment that she didn't know everything. She didn't know what else it had cost her; she hadn't considered it. But now, looking at her, hearing what Pan had said about a tree house and a miserable existence, she could hazard a guess. It was a guess that made her feel sick. It was a guess that told her that Tinkerbell had endured much for the sake of being loyal to her. But more than that, and so, so much worse than that, it told her that she would endure much more for that same purpose.

"I will not," Tinkerbell said, with all the steel of a soldier. A soldier, not a fairy.

Peter showed all his teeth as he advanced on her, but he was not smiling.

"Oh? Do you know what will happen to you if you don't, fairy? I am being more than generous with you, Tinkerbell. Do _not_ test me."

"There's nothing generous about it and you know it, Pan. You want me to say I regret trying to save my friend. Well, you're mad."

Wendy couldn't stop herself from making a noise of protest, but Tinkerbell ignored her, speaking on, and speaking with fire. Saying all the things that Wendy would say. But where the fairy fought Peter Pan with her words, Wendy's defiance lay in her silence.

"Nobody in their right mind would ever regret that, and I don't think you understand that, Pan, because you don't have anybody whom you would consider a friend." Felix's eyes were downcast as she went on. "And that is very sad indeed."

"Last chance," Pan said through gritted teeth. "Do you regret the actions you have taken to attempt to free the girl?"

"No," Tinkerbell said simply.

"Very well," Pan said. He signaled to Felix with two fingers, gesturing for him to ready his whip. He approached Tinkerbell, holding out his hand. In a haze of green glow, the ropes around her were loosened- only long enough for Pan to turn her body around so that her front was flush against the tree, back exposed. "Felix. You know what to do."

Wendy could hear Tinkerbell's frantic breathing from where she was, and she strained against her binds, rope burning her skin as she did. She cried out in pain, and Felix glanced back at her, paler than usual as his fingers curled around the whip. She just shook her head at him ever so slightly, pleading with him. He opened his mouth a little, and closed it again.

"Felix," Pan said warningly. He was standing behind him now, one hand rested on his shoulder, to reassure him, or to threaten him. To Peter Pan there wasn't much of a difference. Still, as soon as he laid his hand on Felix, Wendy knew she had lost him; Felix closed his eyes and nodded. Then, he did what he always did. He did what Pan asked of him.

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><p><em>Felix is back, Peter is back, and Tink is back- yayyy. Tell me what you think? :D also, because you guys are the absolute best, tell me what you want to see in the coming chapters as well! Although I won't be able to include anything that would change the overall story arch I've got planned, I'd love to add in any little things you want to see (interactions between specific characters, funny little scenarios, etc.).<em>

_Cheers fellow Oncers! I'll update as soon as I can. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Torments**

_A/N: Hi guys! So, unfortunately, tomorrow the school year begins for me, meaning I probably won't be able to update as frequently :-(. I'll aim to update at least once a week and see how it goes. In the mean time, here, have a chapter:_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

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><p>Wendy would never forget the scream that followed the first lash. The way it grated against Tinkerbell's throat. The way she tried to suppress it. The way it came out anyway.<p>

It was only when she felt warm blood dripping from her own arms that she realised how hard she'd jolted forwards, fighting the ropes too much for her skin to take. But she didn't care.

Tinkerbell's hands were fists, her arms shaking. In that one flick of the whip, the back of her dress was ruined. A stain of dark blood was spreading down her back. Her scream turned to whimpers.

"Again," Pan's voice cut through the air, a whip all of its own. His wish was Felix's command.

"Is it worth it?" Pan had said, repeating the question over and over. "Your _friendship_? Is it really worth it?"

Tinkerbell just sobbed as Felix's whip cracked down on her spine over and over again. Blood was all Wendy could see. Tinkerbell's; her own. And all that she knew was that this had been doing on for far too long; Tinkerbell had been crying for far too long, and if she fought the ropes anymore the cuts they were making along her arms would become so deep they would never heal. She could hear her own breathing, ragged and loud and far too fast. Her vision was blurred and she was probably crying, too. She couldn't be sure.

"Look well, Darling. Because this is for_ you_." Peter turned to her as Felix continued to inflict his whip upon Tinkerbell, and Wendy was seeing double now; double the demon boy standing in front of her."This is what happens to the people you fool into _believing_ you."

Tinkerbell let out a cry as the whip cracked on her skin once more.

"Please," she was saying, having taken all that she could. "Please stop."

Felix let out a strange noise then, and he paused, waiting for Pan's word.

Pan wasn't looking at him. His eyes were fixed on Wendy, an anger in them that she wasn't sure she quite understood. He wanted something from her, she could tell. Whatever it was, she was determined not to give it to him. All that she would give him was her silence.

Ever unexpectedly, he exhaled, closing his eyes.

"Stop." It was barely more than a whisper, but Felix heard it. He dropped the whip, hands limp by his sides, specs of blood giving colour to his pale skin. He very nearly breathed a sigh of relief and Wendy could not contain her own. Her arms ceased aching as she stopped struggling. Tinkerbell's screams stopped, and the silence that fell across the four of them because of it was eerie; as though Tinkerbell still ought to be crying. As though Wendy ought to be yelling. As though Pan ought to be gloating or commanding Felix about.

It was over.

Oh, thank god, it was over. At least, she hoped it was.

Wendy glanced at Pan, brow furrowed; this had to be a trick. There had to be more. Something he wanted. Some cruel joke. But when he met her eyes, he delivered no punchline. He just stared at her, eyes wide and green.

"Darling," he began, voice hoarse. Wendy just shook her head, and he fell silent once more.

The silence stretched on for far too long; it was almost haunting. But it was a far, far better sound than that of a fairy's cries.

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><p>Felix was the one to escort Wendy back to her cage. After a long while Pan had mumbled the order to Felix, telling him to unbind her. He didn't look at Wendy as he freed her; as the bloodstains on the ropes revealed just how hard she had been fighting them. Tinkerbell was still tied to the tree, and Wendy planted her feet, not daring to leave her alone with Peter Pan.<p>

"She has been punished," Pan said, as though reading her mind. "The lesson is complete."

Wendy snorted, stunned by the pure fury pumping through her own veins. How her body could contain such a large amount of anger was beyond her. In fact, she didn't quite believe that it could. She was shaking terribly. It seemed the whole world was shaking.

"Wendy," Tinkerbell said softly, and she froze, taken aback by the peace in her voice. "We'll be okay." She glanced down at Wendy's bleeding wrists then, grimacing. "Why did you do that, Wendy? Why did you fight? You didn't have to..."

Wendy did not break her silence then; not just because she must defy Pan, but because she knew not what to say to that. She just smiled as best as she could, and she let her friend know like that.

Tinkerbell seemed to understand.

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><p>Tinkerbell's blood smeared across her skin from Felix's fingers, and they were trembling as they pulled Wendy's arm. She found she had not the strength to fight him. He led her away from Pan, around the corner. It was only then that she swept down on his fingers with her free arm, forcing him to let her go.<p>

"Don't," she hissed. "Don't you dare."

Felix furrowed his brow. "You forget, I don't need your permission to take you back to your cage." But curiously, he made no move to grab her.

"You just need _his_," she spat. "I know. That's all you ever need, isn't it? It was all you needed to torture a _fairy._ Pan's permission. His _order_. You're worse than I am, you know. If I'm a prisoner, then you're a willing slave."

"I am Pan's second in command," he cleared his throat. "I don't expect you to understand that. To understand loyalty."

Wendy scoffed. "Maybe. At least I don't let somebody else make all of my decisions for me."

"You don't get to make _any_ decisions," Felix said, and he returned his grip to her arm, keeping it firm even as she struggled.

"Neither do you," she said, once she'd given up fighting him physically. She could beat him verbally, in any case. "You didn't want to hurt Tinkerbell."

Felix inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing. Wendy glanced up at him, her disgust wavering, if only for a moment. She was right; he hadn't wanted to harm her. At first, all that had meant to her was fury. Fury that she had stood there and seen Tinkerbell bleed and cry. Fury that it was a cowardly boy taking orders who had made it happen. Fury that he hadn't done a thing about it. But now, it meant more. She softened her voice, treading carefully.

"You didn't want to hurt her," she repeated. "I know you didn't. Your hands are shaking. You're paler than I am- and I've been stuck in a cage for god knows how long. You regret it, don't you?"

"This," Felix said oddly, "is none of your business."

"None of _my_ business?" she said, and all the anger and guilt and disbelief that had gnawed at her as the ropes gnawed at her wrists came to the tip of her tongue. She spat it out. "Tinkerbell was tortured because of _me_. Because she tried to free _me_. It's my fault. It's my fault, and it's my responsibility, it's my punishment, and that sure as hell makes it my _business_. Tell me you regret it. If you're more than just some domesticated _pet_, tell me." She was breathing hard when she finished, and tears made her cheeks sticky to touch. Felix stared at her, almost blank in the face of her outburst. Almost.

"I…" he hesitated. "It doesn't matter what I wanted."

Wendy just waited, looking at him. They had reached her cage now- it looked to have been repaired by Lost Boys in her absence- but neither of them had acknowledged it.

"I don't regret doing what Pan asked," he said at last, voice heavy with the weight of the words he spoke. "I just wish that he hadn't asked me." He stopped, and Wendy knew by the way he pursed his lips tight together that it was all he was going to say.

_I just wish that he hadn't asked me. _

Wendy blinked at Felix, then, and she wondered whether his loyalty to Pan made him the weakest person she had ever encountered, or the strongest.

"Cage," he said gruffly, when she didn't move. She paused. She hadn't paid Felix all too much mind before- aside from wanting to kill him, and oh, she wanted to still. But perhaps it was also that she had no surplus in company. Either way, Wendy found herself wanting to speak to Felix some more. To find out more. Maybe she could make him braver. Maybe she could make him an ally. She hardly dared to think it, but the thought was there. Fantasising about a friend, an escape. She supposed that was all she had now.

Felix was half-turned away from her when she swallowed her questions and crawled into the cage that Peter Pan had led her from all too recently. She could smell him when she breathed in, and it made her feel queasy because it was too sweet a scent. The sun was already fading, having lived brightly and swiftly. The moon was waiting behind it to take its place, to cast a new sort of light on Neverland. The sort of light that liked to flirt with the dark. It was more warm to Wendy than the sun ever would be. She peered through the bars of her cage. Felix had locked her in, but it seemed that he did not intend on keeping her company. Nibs was positioned a few metres ahead of her, with his back to her. She sighed, allowing her head to fall back on the corner of the cage. She closed her eyes, and she breathed in the traces that Pan had left in the air; trying not to think about Tinkerbell. Trying not to think about how it was all her fault. After a while, the scent of him became almost soothing.

_My, I must truly be going mad. _

It followed her into her dreams.

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><p>Peter waited until Wendy was well out of his sight before he turned to Tinkerbell, cutting away the ropes that bound her with a single flick of his dagger. She tripped over her own feet at the loss of the force holding her up against the tree. In a way that she would've called instinctive were it not for the fact that it was Peter Pan, he caught her, holding her upright by the shoulders.<p>

Facing her, and so close, he could see the red in her eyes; the tears that still ran down either side of her face. She had been brave; for Wendy's sake. Now she was gone, Tinkerbell had begun to cry once more. She didn't care about crying in front of him; he was prepared to bet that she wanted him to see it. See it, and feel bad about it. But she would only be disappointed. He had done what needed to be done.

"Do you _ever_ plan to stop blubbering like that?"

"It…hurts," Tinkerbell said, hand going behind her back as though to shield it from the breeze that stung the lashes there. "What are you going to do with me?" her voice trembled along with her arms.

"What indeed," he muttered. "Turn around." He made an impatient noise when she did nothing, moving so that he stood behind her. This was a bad idea, he knew. One that even the thought of the fairy would not allow him to forget. Nevertheless, he rose his fingertips to her wounds, running them over the length of the cuts that had torn her dress. She flinched, first at his touch, then in surprise as the pain was gone. Slowly, his magic was healing her, knitting her flesh back, smoothing over her skin until it was as though nobody had ever hurt her. Of course, they both knew that wasn't quite true.

Tinkerbell whipped around at once, hand flying behind her, touching the healed skin as though to assure herself that it was indeed healed. Finding that it was, she rose her eyes to meet his.

"Why did you do that?"

"Just be grateful I did," he said gruffly, but Tinkerbell shook her head. Apparently, Wendy's friendship had made her bolder than she had been in the past. It was a good thing it had, too. Neverland was not a place for the typical gentleness of a fairy.

"Why? If you wanted to punish me, then..." she blinked. "Oh. I see."

"Do you?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"It wasn't meant for me," she said with conviction, though her voice was still rough from screaming. "Was it? It was Wendy. You meant to punish _her_. Why? You have her locked up, for goodness sake!"

His jaw clenched. "Demanding answers does not become you, Tinkerbell."

She flinched, but went on as though she hadn't heard him. "Haven't you done enough?"

He almost laughed. "Enough? Me? I saved her _life_ where you failed. You would do well to remember that, fairy." He stepped closer. "You failed her. She would be dead if not for me. Did you bear that in mind, I wonder? As you waltzed into my camp last night, ready to play the hero? As you came to _free_ her from me, did you remember that _I am the one who saved her_?"

"Of course I remember!" Tinkerbell blurted out. "There's not a day that passes that I don't wish I had been able to save her in time! But you did, and I was glad. And then you locked her in a cage! Why? If you really loved her-"

All at once, his hand was around her neck, and she was pressed against the tree again, fighting for air.

"Fairies," he snarled. "Looking for_ love _everywhere. Looking for happy endings. I suggest you take your intuitions and scurry back to your tree house, because you will not find_ either_ here." His nails dug into her skin as he let her go, sending her staggering backwards. This time, he made no attempt to catch her. He was breathing hard. "You ruined it," he spat. "You ruined everything, and you needed to know that. You needed to see what you'd done, so you'd understand." He broke off, voice suddenly weak. "It didn't have to be like this."

"What?" Tinkerbell gasped, rubbing her throat. "What are you talking about?" His eyes were bright, feverish- but he wasn't looking at her. He wasn't looking at anybody. "Who are you talking to?"

"Fly away, fairy," he said distantly, though she wasn't sure he'd heard her. "Fly away, or I might try to kill you after all." He wasn't moving; just standing on the forest floor, littered with the blood he had ordered there and staring at nothing; talking to no one. Lost.

She hesitated, legs wanting to move. Somehow, she was stuck; as though, ridiculous and illogical as it was, she shouldn't leave him alone like this. It wasn't what she'd been taught. It wasn't what good fairies did.

And then the wind blew, and her bare back grew cold, and she remembered why.

Without a word, she picked herself up. She ran away from him as fast as her feet would carry her.

She did not look back.

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><p><em>Ta-da! Hope you liked it :) <em>

_I noticed that quite a few of you have picked up on the changes in both Peter and Wendy's characters in this sequel. They sure have changed quite a lot- Wendy being stuck in a cage inevitably has taken it's toll, and Peter was extremely hurt by her in the Echo Caves, hence his cruelty now. Don't worry, though! Wendy isn't going to become weak- she's trying to fight back in a different kind of way for now, and she just has to find a way to gain some power for herself. Oh, and she will *evil grin*_

_Please do review and tell me what you think/ask anything you might want to ask! I always love reading your reviews :)._


	4. Chapter 4

Loss And Gain

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><p>AN: _...so, this is a very, very late update... pls forgive me? :P. Seriously, though, I'd hoped to update a lot sooner than this, but everything just got super busy :(. Hopefully I'll update faster next time._

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

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><p>It was raining again. Not heavily. No water soaked through the cage roof, it wasn't that harsh a storm. Still, it made the air cold. It didn't smell like him anymore, and for that, she was grateful. He had haunted her dreams too well, too easily. He and his whip, covered in blood. He had been laughing in her dream, and his whip had come down across the backs of two young boys, boys who were calling her name as though it was familiar to them. He had looked at her, daring her to interfere. Wanting her to. But her hands and feet had been bound, and he had her at his mercy. It wasn't a pleasant dream, and she was glad to be rid of it.<p>

But if she'd opened her eyes and hoped that her reality would be any different, she was sorely mistaken. She heard his voice, although she could not see him. He was ordering about his Lost Boys; something about a boy who would be approaching. Something about needing to be ready. His voice was colder than it used to be; not that it used to be especially gentle. He knew that she could hear him, she was sure of it. And that could only mean one thing: that he didn't intend on keeping his distance any longer.

"Wonderful," she muttered to herself, and Curly, who was standing guard, flinched at the sound of her voice, taking a step back from the cage- all for his own safety, she was certain.

"You're awake," he said stiffly.

"And _you're _observant," Wendy said. "Are you going to talk to me today, Curly?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Why aren't you down there, then?" she went on. "With the rest of the Boys. Has your _wise _leader decided that you aren't worthy of being involved in whatever it is he's plotting?"

"I _am _worthy," Curly said passionately. "He trusted me with guarding you. I already _know _everything he's telling the rest of them."

"How exciting for you," Wendy said. She paused. "But I doubt you really know everything."

"I do!"

"I bet you're only pretending that you know," she goaded him, in a sing-song voice that she knew perfectly well would anger him. People like Curly were loyal, yes. But they wanted everybody to know it. They wanted everyone to know just how trusted they were. Surely it would be only too easy, therefore, to get Curly to tell her a little something about Pan's plans.

Sure enough,

"I am not pretending- I know the whole of it, I know about the Believer, I know when he's coming, I know-"

"Curly." A third party said, timid and breathless from running. "Pan says I'm to take over."

"Tootles," Curly said, flustered, as though he had only just become aware of the stream of words that had been bursting from him in a fit of anger. "Of course. _It _is all yours." He bowed away, throwing a rather frightened look back at Wendy as he did. He'd said too much- at least, he thought he had. But that did Wendy little good.

'The Believer' was coming. How perfectly unhelpful. How was she to make any sense of it? Of course, she might have, if Tootles had not interrupted. But the poor boy was standing before her now, cheeks red as he caught his breath, a kind smile on his face. The only kind smile that Wendy had seen in a long time- and probably ever would again. So she breathed out, long and hard, and smiled back.

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><p>"He wasn't giving you a hard time, was he?"<p>

"Oh, Tootles, you know the question is not whether or not he was giving me a hard time, but whether _I _was giving him one," she said lazily. Tootles didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded.

"I beat Nibs today," he said. "Arm wrestle."

"Ah, I see a congratulations is in order, then. I do wish I had seen Nibs' face."

Tootles flushed. "He wasn't happy. I think he was just really surprised. He's always been the strongest of us, now that-now that Rufio isn't around." He cleared his throat.

"Rufio could've beaten all of them," Wendy said adamantly. "He probably could've done Pan some damage, too. Smacked that _look_ right off his face. Do you know what he did to Tinkerbell? Just when I thought a person could not be more rotten." She shuddered at the memory. She didn't intend on reliving it, not really- but now that Tootles was here, she could properly complain.

Tootles, however, shifted, looking uncomfortable.

"Is he really rotten, though?" it was little more than a mumble.

"Is that even a question?" Wendy said incredulously. "Tootles, what do you mean? I thought-"

"He healed her," Tootles said, very quickly, like he wanted to get it over with. "He healed Tinkerbell."

"He- what?"

"With magic," Tootles clarified, and Wendy shook her head, brow furrowed.

"I don't believe it," she said. "I can't. You didn't see him. There was blood falling to the ground, and she was screaming, and he didn't care at all. He can't have healed her."

"He did," Tootles said adamantly.

"How would you know that? You weren't there, were you? Tell me you didn't just stand there and watch-"

"No," Tootles blurted out. "I didn't! Of course I didn't, Wendy. I could never."

"Then how do you know he healed her?" she narrowed her eyes, for Tootles was beginning to look quite guilty indeed. "Unless…" she widened her eyes, piecing it all together. "Unless he told you that he healed her. Told you to tell me. Didn't he?"

"He…" Tootles just stuttered. He wasn't one for eloquent words, let alone eloquent lies. In the end, he gave a single, helpless nod. "He told me to tell you. It was the only reason he let me be on guard. I _am_ sorry, Wendy."

"Unbelievable," she spat. "That he would think I'm that stupid- that I would actually believe that he would heal her-"

"Heal her from what?" Tootles said softly. "I… he didn't actually tell me what happened, exactly."

"He had Felix whip her," Wendy said bluntly. "Because she tried to help me." She came as close to Tootles as she could, and he was leaned towards her as well. "Tootles, you mustn't ever try to free me again. He will do the same to you- this bastard who claims to be a saint." She snorted.

Tootles, who was frozen at her words, gave a short nod. If she'd had the room, she would've thrown her arms up in exasperation. Instead, she just growled low in her throat.

"Did he really hurt her?" he said softly. Wendy just looked at him, as though he was being absurd.

"You're asking me if Peter Pan hurt her? You're really asking me that?"

Tootles swallowed hard, shaking his head a little. "Is Tink okay?"

Wendy shook her head, but her eyes softened. It was easy for her to forget that the Lost Boys had known Tinkerbell once, too. Easy to forget it wasn't just she who might care about her fate. Tootles was not as soft and round as he had been, but his worry for Tinkerbell made him look younger. More like a child again. Of course, in Neverland, he always looked like a child. Still, in this land where nobody aged, you could tell that Tootles had been around for a long while.

"When Baelfire was here," he said. "I was one of the lads in charge of helping him sleep at night. He had these dreadful nightmares, see. The others would all give up and go to sleep. It'd just be me and Tink most nights, sitting by him."

"You were her friend too," Wendy said expressionlessly.

"Not the best of friends. I knew her, is all. She was nice." He didn't seem to want to say much more than that.

"You're not asking me about Pan's plans," he noted after a sombre silence between the pair of them.

"No point," Wendy said. "The bastard's got eyes everywhere, hasn't he? Haven't_ you_." She spoke louder. The trees rustled then, restless, like she had called them out on their eavesdropping. Tootles' wide eyes met hers-

"Tootles." It was Nibs, hurrying out from behind bushes, breathing hard as he ran. "I'm to take over here. You're dismissed."

"I've not been here for more than a few moments!" Tootles protested. "Nibs-"

"Pan's orders," Nibs cut in, silencing the other boy at once. Wendy's head was down, and she made sure not to offer Tootles any form of 'farewell'; anything that might give Nibs cause to run along telling Pan of their friendship. No doubt he would see it as an alliance; an attack on his bloody authority or some other nonsense of the sort. She listened to his footsteps as he shuffled away from her. Nibs didn't say anything to her, and she wasn't in a mood good enough or foul enough to want to goade him. So Wendy sat in silence, and the rest of her day passed as it sometimes did; agonisingly slowly, and perfectly alone.

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><p>"Tootles is far too glum these days," Peter remarked, not looking at his Second in Command as he spoke to him. He was sprawled across his hammock, hanging between trees, rotating his pipes in his hands. When Felix didn't respond, he glanced up to where he stood, back leaning against one of the tree trunks.<p>

"Well?" he said, irritated.

Felix only shrugged. He was staring at his own hands. Peter thought he looked rather foolish doing so. He didn't see what Felix did; the whip curled between his fingers, coating them in somebody else's blood.

"Let's have it then," Peter groaned, throwing his feet over the edge of the hammock and laying his pipes aside. "I know that look. First Tootles, now you. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Felix said at once, but he lacked conviction. Felix was a terrible liar; it was something Peter quite liked about him. It meant it was easier for him to be lied to, and god knew how many times that would come in handy.

"You're lying," he said easily. "Spit it out."

"I only wonder," Felix cleared his throat, still avoiding looking at him, "if Tinkerbell is alright." In truth, he had not stopped wondering since he had dropped the whip the night before; since he had escorted Wendy back to her cage, he had wondered. But Tinkerbell had been gone when he returned to the clearing, and Pan hadn't said another word on the matter. He knew it was unwise to ask. Indeed, Peter was on it at once.

"Tinkerbell?" Peter said, frowning. Well, that was unexpected. "What's the matter, Felix? Sympathetic to the fairy now? I suppose that's what's got Tootles down, as well? That or his insufferable loyalty to the girl."

"I told you, it was nothing."

"What do you care whether the fairy is alright or not?" Peter persisted. "She is the enemy of the Lost Boys. She is_ my_ enemy."

"She is," Felix said. "It's just that cuts like that- they can easily be infected. And they leave scars." His own scar, the one that slashed his face in two, stung as he talked of it. He remembered the infections. He still felt them, sometimes, at night when he couldn't sleep.

"Since when are you an expert?" Peter said airily, and that stung even more. He finally looked at Pan, searching for something in his eyes; but they were light and trivial and blissfully ignorant. He had forgotten, Felix realised. He had really forgotten about Felix. About the whips. "Besides, you're the one who whipped her."

"You told me to," he muttered.

"Felix, Felix," he grinned. "You know better than anyone; in Neverland, you can do whatever you want, and you needn't do anything you don't. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

"Enjoy it?" Felix's voice was very high.

"That's more like it." He felt Peter's hand rest between his shoulder blades- a comforting hand. He felt it, but he didn't. For the first time in thousands upon thousands of years, he felt cold, not warmth, under Peter's touch.

Because Felix had forgotten things, too. He had forgotten birthdays and names and Lost Boys and Pirates and foes; games and days and parties and nightmares. But that was one thing he could never forget. And if Peter had forgotten it, then what else? What else had he forgotten?

That he'd saved Felix? That he'd been kind to him when nobody else was?

His eyes prickled, and it took him a moment to realise why. Tears weren't something he was overtly familiar with in Neverland. He pushed them back, looking at the rising moon.

The hand slipped from his back, then, and he turned around. It seemed that Tootles had reappeared, without Felix having realised.

"Well?" Peter demanded of the boy, pacing to where he was immediately.

"Well what?" Tootles said plainly.

"What did she say?" Peter said impatiently. "Did you tell her?" 'Her' being Wendy. Of course. Felix closed his eyes, turning to walk away.

"I told her what you said. About healing Tinkerbell," Tootles said, and Felix stopped, turning back incredulously. Peter had healed Tinkerbell? He hadn't told Felix that. He hadn't told Felix anything like that. "Wendy doesn't believe you."

Peter drew in a breath then, sharper than Felix would've thought.

"Of course not," he said smoothly. "Tootles, Felix- find the others. Get a fire going."

"Of course, Pan," Felix murmured. Tootles nodded along, without much enthusiasm. Neither boy asked their leader where he was going when he simply turned and walked purposefully away from them, deeper into the forest. Partly, it was because they had no right to question him. Partly because they wouldn't dare. But mostly, it was because they knew exactly where he was going.

* * *

><p>Nibs swapped with another boy whose name Wendy didn't care to remember as it grew darker. He'd seemed relieved to be off; the quiet didn't become him, and he hated to miss out on their games to guard her. She'd pointed out that she really wouldn't mind if he left her alone, but he had just shot her a poison look.<p>

She hadn't been given food yet, but she wasn't sure she would be able to stomach it anyway. Tinkerbell was still there, hanging over her head, echoing after her every thought. Bleeding and screaming, and accepting it all for her own damned sake. Wendy wanted to make it stop. She wanted to hit something; kick, shout, cry, run. But she could barely shift her weight in the cage.

Still, she couldn't say she wasn't relieved to hear footsteps approaching her and the silent guard again. No doubt it would be Felix, sour-faced as he delivered her dinner as usual. Perhaps biting hard into an apple would release at least a portion of her anger. At any rate, seeing Felix again might allow for her to talk to him again- to find out the truth about Tinkerbell- to make him feel guilty for it.

But, as it turned out, it was not Felix who was making his way hastily towards her.

"Leave. Now." It was a cold voice.

"Yes, Pan."

Wendy's blood ran cold, and she moved forwards as far as she could as the Lost Boy hurried off at once- the very picture of obedience. Her eyes narrowed, trying to grasp Pan's shape through the bars-

All at once, before Wendy had time to shield her eyes, a harsh wrenching sound echoed through the forest, splinters showering her body as one of the walls of her cage was torn apart. She gasped, flinching at the shards of wood buried in her skin. Suddenly, there were hands on her arms, pulling her roughly from the cage. Bare feet landed on mud and wet leaves, and she blinked away from the eerie moonlight that was only just there.

"What are you doing?" his voice was furious, words tumbling together like rapids down rocks. "What game are you playing, Darling?" His grip on her tightened, and as she grew accustomed to the light, she was able to see him properly, now. Eyes wide, teeth grit. "Talk. Go on. You talk to the Lost Boys. I know you do. I've_ heard_ you. What do you have to say to me?"

She pursed her lips, and she looked at him; at his fingers digging into her arm. Wordlessly, she jerked out of his grip, stepping backwards. Pan watched her, but he made no move to take hold of her again. He took a deep breath; an exhale that Wendy could hear. She heard it shake as it left his mouth.

"Don't make me say please," he said. "You know I don't like to say please, Wendy Darling."

Wendy opened her mouth then, not because she wanted to say something, but because she was surprised. Surprised that he would willingly speak of it; that he would bring up the words exchanged in the Echo Cave. Surprised that his voice was soft and sad when he spoke next.

"I healed Tinkerbell. I know you don't believe it, but I did. I know you want to tell me that you don't believe me. Surely you must want to insult me." His hands were shaking, and he did reach towards her again- but this time, it was only the tips of his fingers that brushed her skin. "I want you to." He didn't even wait to see if she would speak to him, now. It was as though he couldn't stop himself. "I didn't want to hurt Tinkerbell, you know. But it was you. It was all you. You had to see what you did. You- fooled me. I believed you. I would have protected you. I _tried _to save you too- from your world. That's what happens to the people you fool, Wendy. That's what it's like. That's what you did to me."

He leant towards her, so close she could feel him breathing. She closed her eyes, she let herself feel it. Let herself remember that she'd felt this before. And then she had to hide her smile, because in that one moment, she understood.

She understood how much Peter Pan had cared for her; how much he didn't understand it. She understood how much she had hurt him by trying to leave, and she understood how dangerous he was; how unstable, and how deranged. And how completely in love with her.

* * *

><p>She knew what she was going to do only seconds before she did it, giving herself only a little more warning than she gave him. All at once, she was pressed against him, hands him closer to her, lips dancing with his, a hasty, clumsy, reckless dance all of their own. And, all at once, he was kissing her back, eyes wide with shock for a moment before he closed them, leaning into the kiss, pulling her closer, hands moving towards her waist-<p>

Before he could hold her closer, Wendy pulled back from him, hands pushing back against his chest. She was breathing heavily; they both were. His lip trembled, hands still reaching towards her.

"I," he breathed. "Why did you do that?" She didn't say a thing. "WHY?"

He didn't understand, but she did.

Even as he turned away with his head in his hands and curses at his lips, she had to stop herself from laughing. Because when she had realised that he was in love with her, she realised that that gave her something. Something that she had only dreamed of, lying in her cage night by night.

Power. It gave her the power to make him senseless. The power to make him frustrated. The power to make him confused and desperate for her attention, desperate for her words.

It gave her power over Peter Pan.

And oh, she intended to use it.

* * *

><p><em>Sorry about the lack of quality in this chapter, guys- I wrote most of it in a hurry, and I'm sure there are a bunch of grammatical errorsawkward expressions :/. I know I've switched up the dynamics between characters a bit here, so do let me know what you think :) reviews are always, always appreciated! Thank you so much to the absolute angels who reviewed in my absence- you are wonderful, and far too complimentary! :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Memories Sting**

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><p>AN... okay so let me start by saying I really am sorry about how long it's been since I last updated! General busy-ness is a bit of a rubbish excuse. Thanks to Glimmerynight for messaging me about getting this chapter up, and I'm sorry it wasn't up when I said it would be- my internet crashed before I could get this sorted. Hopefully you guys like this one- I'm curious to see what you think of it.

Thank you so, so much to anyone who's reading this, and thank you especially to those who reviewed that last chapter. You have no idea how much I appreciate it :).

* * *

><p>"Talk to me."<p>

It was the gentlest his voice had been in longer than Wendy cared to remember.

"Darling, say something." Since the previous night, he had asked her to speak to him countless times. Well, not quite countless.

_Fifty seven. _

She amended the tally in her head, wondering if he would stay long enough to read one hundred. He had not left since she had kissed him. He had paced, sat down, leant far away from her cage, and leant far towards it. Even as the rising sun made his eyes green, he stayed. "I never thought I would be asking you to speak your mind," Pan said, fingers slipped around the bars of her cage as he looked at her. He laughed a little, and if Wendy felt the soft tug at her chest at the sound of it, and she was glad that she had never been one of those people to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

"Pan," a gruff voice came from behind him. It was Curly, come to take first shift of the day. Peter didn't look at him.

"What do you want?"

"I- uh. I've come to stand guard of the girl. I can come back later," he said quickly.

"No," Pan said. With a last glance at Wendy, he stood up, turning to face his Lost Boy. "No, don't come back later. Go back to camp. Tell the others that Wendy is not to be guarded today. You are to offer her space. Tell Nibs to construct a bigger cage. And tell somebody to bring her something to eat."

"I- _Wendy,_ Pan?" Curly said, eyes wide.

Wendy couldn't blame him. In all the time he'd served his leader, the poor boy had never heard him say her name before. She herself was quite surprised as well, if she was being honest, and pleasantly so. But she hid her smile with a smirk.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Peter muttered. He wasn't being particularly menacing about it, but Curly scurried off fast enough after that.

Peter bent to his knees, then, tilting his head to the side to look at her.

"Better?" he said, the corner of his mouth turned up; though it was shaking too well to be a proper smile.

"You're infuriating." He said. "Even when you aren't talking rubbish like you used to, you're infuriating. You're cruel, Wendy Darling. Did you know that you're cruel?"

Why should she not be? The world was cruel- her world. She had thought once that Neverland might be different. But even in a world of magic, things were harsh. Why should she not adapt? This was about survival, after all. Surely Peter Pan should anticipate that. Perhaps he would have, were he not blinded by what he wanted to see.

After a moment, he just sighed, finding his feet again.

"I'll be back," he said. "When you want to talk to me. I'll be back." He waited, as though expecting a response. But Wendy wasn't quite ready to talk to him. Not when silence was already serving her so well. A bigger cage and a better breakfast than she'd had in ages? It was an improvement, at the very least. Pan disappeared, then, rather than just walking away. Apparently he had no time for such mundane movements. Still, she had no doubt that he could see her, somehow. Hear her, one way or another.

He always could.

* * *

><p>Days passed; at least, Wendy could only estimate that they were days. The sky went from dark to darker, the sun bleeding between the trees every now and then, when Pan came to visit her. She sat comfortably now in her cage, spare apples resting at her feet for later. Still, she had not said a word to Peter Pan. It was affecting him, she knew. She saw just how much it was affecting him when he came to her, begging her with his words, his eyes, his body language. He would kneel beside her and speak to her, about this and that. Nothing important. None of his plans. The truest believer never came up. But Wendy would give it time. Now that she had this; this light at the end of the tunnel, she didn't feel trapped, in spite of the guard that stood by her at all times. Give it time, give it time, she told herself. Give it enough time, and she would be free of this cage. Give it enough time, and she would win this game.<p>

"That'll be all, Nibs," a low voice said, and Wendy's guard bowed out, leaving the gangly figure in the cloak to approach her, positioning himself at her side. Wendy arched her back, mouth twitching. "

Well, well. I was beginning to think you were dead, it's been so long, Felix."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," his tone was dry.

"Disappoint me? Oh, I'm ecstatic," she said, not caring to hide her sarcasm. "I do think I might've cried if you were dead. It's not as though you'd deserve it." She waited for him to take the bait, but he didn't even flinch.

"Alright, _now_ I'm disappointed. You're perfectly boring to tease, Felix."

"You're upset that I'm not entertaining enough?" there was no humour in his laugh.

"I," Wendy said, "am stuck here. Almost around the clock- and god knows, the clock has no meaning in this rotten place. The least you can do is entertain me." "Entertain yourself." He wasn't looking at her when he said it. Indeed, he seemed to be paying as little attention to her as he possibly could, gazing off into the distance- although Wendy couldn't imagine what he could possibly be looking at. There was nothing but forest ahead.

"Let me out of here, and I shall have no problem with that at all." Felix just shook his head, and for a moment, Wendy allowed silence to fall, somewhat disgruntled by Felix's lack of cooperation. But, if he refused to talk with her about nothing, then she would make him talk to her about something. Something pressing.

Something important.

"How is Tinkerbell?" she said. "Tell me." Then, "Pan would want you to tell me."

"Pan would want you to ask him yourself," Felix said shortly.

"Felix," Wendy said, as gently as she could. "Tell me that she is alright. Tell me." For a long time, she thought that Felix intended to ignore her completely. Then, "I don't know." He cleared his throat. "I don't know, I have not seen the fairy since…"

"Since you whipped her within an inch of her life?" Wendy said frankly. Felix did flinch, then. He flinched, and he turned towards her, eyes wide and wild.

"Don't talk to me like that," he hissed. "I'm not a monster. I'm not a- a torturer."

"Yes," Wendy whispered. "You are." Felix opened his mouth; to yell at her, or maybe to sob. Wendy stopped him first, pressing a single finger to her lips. "Shhh," she said. "Don't say anything. Just listen."

"Listen to_ you_," Felix said blankly. "You'll talk to me. You won't cease talking to me. Why won't you talk to him?"

"You don't really want me to talk to him," Wendy said. "Do you?" She wasn't asking; not really. It was clear in his voice, the way he said 'him'. He didn't want Wendy to talk to his leader. He didn't want her to be Pan's puzzle, like she once was. But the way he looked at her then made it crystal clear. He envied her. Oh, how awful it must be, to envy a girl in a cage. To envy a girl who laughed loudly at nothing; a girl who played games for her freedom, games with dark hearts. He didn't realise that it was she who should envy him.

"You could leave," she said softly. "You know that, don't you? You could leave this world, and he wouldn't drag you back and chain you up. He would let you go."

Felix clenched his eyes shut, the muscles in his throat working.

"Not you," he said. "He would let me go, but not you."

"You should have made him," she said. "You wanted me gone. You should have stuck to it. You should have fought harder."

"It does one no good to speculate," Felix said determinedly.

"Speculate? Isn't that what you do? Don't you speculate about what it could've been like, if he hadn't met me? If he looked at you differently? If-"

"It does one no good," he repeated harshly, eyes flashing open. He stepped closer to her cage, closer than he'd ever stood before. "I know that. Stop this. This game of yours, it will do you no good, either. Talk to him."

"You could do anything," she ignored him, and she reached out, holding him close to the cage by his wrists. He started at the contact, at the cold of her skin. "And he wouldn't care."

"You're wrong," he said hoarsely, eyes fixed on her fingers clamped around his hand.

"Prove it," she said calmly. She had an idea; a plan. Pan was not going to like it, and that made it a good plan in her books. Felix might not like it either. In fact, she was almost sure that he wouldn't. But still, it was a way to get him on side. To prove her point. To prove that Peter Pan did not care about anything- anything real, anything important to his Lost Boy at all.

"I don't have to prove anything," Felix said. He wasn't like Pan. He didn't know how to keep his voice steady when his heart was racing. And it was. Wendy could almost hear it, pattern about in his chest, frantic. Keeping one hand secure around his wrist, she pulled him towards her, bringing her face closer to his. "Then I'll prove it for you," she whispered. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned into him, tilting her head so that her lips brushed his through the bars.

* * *

><p>It <em>was<em> only a brief kiss, the most ephemeral brush of lips on lips before Felix pulled away, spluttering, hand wiping at his mouth as though afraid of infection. "What was _that_?"

"Why, Felix, don't you know what a kiss is?" Wendy said bemusedly, though she too brought her hand to her mouth to wipe away the memory of what she had done. It was just as well that Felix had pulled away when he had. Kissing the boy who had tortured her friend through the bars of a cage was not what Wendy would identify as one of her favourite activities; but, it had been necessary. A means to an end. "

I-" Felix stopped short, eyes wide.

"Proof," she said simply. Felix shook his head slowly, not understanding- but he soon would.

Even as Wendy leaned back, she could hear footsteps fast approaching, harsh on the earth. He could have simply appeared, of course. He wanted her to hear this. He wanted her to fear his arrival, when really, she was anticipating it. She waited for Peter Pan to appear, arms folded across her chest, lazy smile on her face. It was wasted on Pan, who did not even glance at her when he arrived. The phrase 'storming in' was never more relevant than it was in that moment, when Peter Pan stepped between his Lost Boy and his prisoner, eyes like a forest on fire.

"You're free to go," his voice was hard when he commanded Felix, gesturing pointedly away.

"I- Pan," Felix muttered. His cheeks were pink, and he reached forwards, trying to explain himself.

"_Go_, Felix," he said. "I'll deal with you later."

Felix hesitated, eyes moving to Wendy. "I want to stay," he said, trying to keep his voice strong. "I want to speak to you- to explain myself."

"Do you?" Pan said, biting sarcasm colouring his tone. "How fascinating. And _I_ want you to go away. Are you going to obey me, or are you going to strip yourself of your position as second in command? Nibs is waiting in the wings, you know."

Wendy grimaced at that. It was cold, but it was what Felix needed to hear. What she had needed Felix to hear.

_Proof. _

Proof that Felix could do whatever he wanted, and Pan wouldn't care. He wouldn't care if he wasn't a Lost Boy; if he left he island. He could do whatever he wanted, except for want Wendy. Because Pan cared what she did. Pan cared about her. And now Felix had seen it.

She had seen Felix broken-hearted before; when Pan had chosen to believe Wendy over Felix. When he had been cast away. She had never felt quite so sorry for him, though. That was new. The sense of guilt that she felt as his eyes fell to the ground; the dejected drag of his toes as he walked away.

"You," Pan said, breathing hard, not looking at her- which was a first. He had spent most of his time these past days trying to catch her eye. Now, he acted as though he couldn't stomach it. "You could well have just signed his death sentence, do you know that?"

He scoffed. "Nothing to say again. I've tried to be patient with you. I've given you your chance. But it seems you're lacking proper motivation." He drew in a breath. "But no matter. I am more than capable of providing you with motivation, Darling."

Wendy raised her eyebrows at him, a direct challenge to that. A few days ago, this sort of talk from him might've frightened her. This newfound power of hers, this sense of immunity, made her almost giddy in her confidence. Nothing bad would befall her now- she truly believed that. Power to make him angry- power to betray him, hurt him.

_Check._

"Oh, you don't believe me," he said, trying now to keep the hurt from his voice- as if she had not read it loud and clear already. "Wait, Darling, just wait. Oh, the things you have forgotten… when you remember, you will not be so flippant. You will speak to me. You will answer to me."

_And you will love me, and you will do anything you can to make me love you,_ she mentally finished the thought for him.

He was gone before he could see the triumph that elicited her smile.

* * *

><p>Peter hated Wendy.<p>

He hated her, he hated her- what use was she, anyway?

He laced his hands together, biting nails into skin as he waited for his Shadow to arrive. It was taking much longer than usual, and Peter wasn't in a very patient mood. When at last it arrived, it was all Peter could do not to grasp it by the throat. Instead, he thinned his lips and gave it it's new mission.

_London._ The Shadow, in its eerie way, expressed its distaste. Of course, it had not forgotten that place. It never forgot anything. Neither did Peter, of course. _What business do you have there? _

"There are two people I want you to find there. If they are indeed still there. Find them, if they are not."

_Names?_

Peter turned away from the dark shape that hovered by his side, staring into the trees, where Wendy still sat in her cage. He needed only close his eyes to hear her breathing. Sometimes, he deliberately avoided that sound, avoided it for so long that even he began to incur dark circles beneath his eyes for lack of sleep. She would detest him for this; detest him more than she had for Tinkerbell. She would hate him so much that there would be no more thimbles, no more glances, no forgiveness. But she would tell him that. She would have to tell him that, and that meant looking at him and speaking to him.

"John Darling," he said hollowly. "and Michael Darling. Find them."

_The girl's kin._ The Shadow was impassive. Peter ignored him.

"Go to them, be polite. Introduce yourself. Let them know who you work for. And let them know, most importantly, that I have their beloved sister captive. Let them know that, if they agree to assist me from the outside world, I will grant them long life. I will give them their sister back. Let them know that, if they do not, I will kill her," he spat.

_ You wish to extend their lives? You know what happens to you when you use your powers in this way. _

"The Truest Believer will arrive one day," he said, untroubled. "And then it will not matter."

_They will not believe me._

"They will," he said. "If you show them proof. Take them something of Wendy's- her old clothing, why don't you? Besides, a disembodied mass of Shadow is surely evidence enough."

The Shadow absorbed it all silently, and Peter had soon had enough of its rather gloomy company.

"Are you clear, then? You are to leave immediately."

_ Your wish is my command,_ the Shadow bowed- in it's own way. Before it turned away, it seemed to hesitate, floating still for a moment.

I_f they refuse to cooperate, you are to kill Wendy Darling?_

Peter folded his arms, trying to mask the traitorous pinch in his chest at the thought of killing her- at the thought of her being gone, forever.

He would never.

He would kill all his Lost Boys before he killed her, and he could not offer an explanation as to why, either.

"They will not refuse," was all he said.

* * *

><p>"Bastard," she spat, raw animosity manifesting itself into that one word, the first word she had said to Peter Pan in such a long time.<p>

Bastard. Bastard. You unimaginable bastard.

_"I expect by now you've forgotten your brothers. John and Michael," his lip had curled as he approached the cage, just one night after her last encounter with him. She had been expecting him, of course, awaiting his 'revenge', eager to see what else she could do, what other power she held over him. But the moment he began to speak she was frozen, struck by the utter wrongness of what he was saying. Brothers? But she had none. She had no family. At least, no family that she could recall. Neverland was all she knew._

_ "They are in London, you know. And they are older. Much older than they were when you last saw them. I had my Shadow go to them when it last was dark. They were mourning the death of their long lost sister, Wendy Darling, can you imagine?" _

Michael. John. London. Darling.

They had been familiar, there was no denying it. She'd thought first of her dream, the one with the two boys beckoning to her; the one with the tall house in a city so strangely different to Neverland.

_"Imagine. Imagine their grief. Imagine their loss. Now, imagine their shock when they found out that their beloved sister is still alive and well. Imagine how delighted they were. How willing they were to do anything- absolutely anything, to ensure her survival; her safe return to them."_

Michael. John.

_"Tell us a story, Wendy."_

_ "I think that's quite enough stories for today, John." _

_Her brothers wrinkled their brows in disappointment, though that didn't stop Michael from wrapping his skinny arms around her legs in a hug anyway. She laughed when John joined in, the pair of them nearly toppling her over with the force of their embrace. Her brothers. Her family._

She remembered now. T

he confidence- the high- that she had been feeling ever since she had experienced her epiphany with Pan deflated like a popped balloon, and in its place, the most grueling sort of dread grew heavy on her stomach.

_"Bastard."_

Pan gazed at her, mouth halfway open, halfway twisted into a smile.

"She speaks," he said, though anger still bit at his words. "Bastard. Is that all?"

"_Is that all?_" she hissed. "Who do you think you are- to make me forget my family? Who do you think you are, to remember my brothers where I couldn't? To find them- to torture them, to _lie_ to them; to torture my friend in front of me, and then to try to tell me that you had to do it! That you_ healed her_. You won't ensure my survival, you won't ensure my safe return, I know you won't- you're _lying_ to my brothers. And you're telling me this. You could be lying to me, too. You could be telling me the truth, it doesn't matter. You want me to talk to you. Well, how's this? You are a monster, and you _will l_eave my brothers alone if you want me to **ever** speak to you again."

There were tears on her cheeks that she didn't recall crying. She didn't care. She didn't care, for the first time in forever, how weak she looked, or whether she was giving him what he wanted, or what her next move was going to be.

She had forgotten her brothers.

What else was there?

For a moment, Pan didn't say anything. He closed his eyes, and smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile, though she could hardly recall ever seeing a smile on that face that wasn't sinister somehow.

"I have missed this," he murmured. "You have a sharp tongue, Darling. But I'm afraid you will be speaking to me. I'm afraid you'll need to. You see, I have made contact with your brothers. I have sent my Shadow to them. Now, that could mean nothing more than them doing my bidding, harmlessly trying to win back their sister-"

"You would never let me go," she said angrily, "you can't make them do your bidding when you never really intend to let me return to them."

"Actually, I can," he put mildly. "But, Darling, you're neglecting the _most_ important part. For you, anyway. You see, if you refuse to speak to me… well, let's just say, my Shadow is well practiced in the art of killing. I doubt it would have any problem taking care of two clueless oafs such as your brothers."

The darkness that was growing heavy in her torso turned cold.

"If you kill them, I will kill you."

Even she didn't recognise the voice that said it. The serenity, the promise, the cold.

Pan, curiously, appeared genuinely bothered by that. Wendy wondered what reaction he had been expecting. A sigh of acceptance? A smile? A laugh?

a 'good one, Pan, you got me?'.

"You can't kill me," he said after a while.

"Don't tell me what I cannot do, Peter Pan," she retorted dangerously. "Nobody but I can do that."

"On the contrary, I think you'll find that from now onwards, none but I have the power to decide what you can and can't do," he said lightly. "All because you went ahead and forgot your own brothers. Really, it's just shameful…"

"You _made_ me forget," she said harshly. "I tried to go back. _I tried to go back_. Why couldn't you _let me_ go back?"

"You know the answer." He didn't shout it. He said it very much with an air of tiredness, as though she were silly for asking. As though he had been asked countless times before, and explained his answer to her, countless times before.

Perhaps in his mind, he had.

"I always hated that place," Wendy said finally, distantly. "London. I always hated that world. But I think- no, I _know_ now-" she looked past him, eyes unfocused on the green behind, "that you are so much worse. I… _hate_ you, Pan, more than I have ever hated anything. And I will never hate anything more."

Pan actually flinched at that. "

You can't know that," he said softly. "Forever is too long a time never to change your mind."

Her eyes stung from the tears she wiped from them when she spoke back, too drained, too numb, for her voice to match the hostility of her words.

"Then every single day, from this day onward, I will tell you that I hate you. Every day."

Pan turned his head sharply away from her, his breathing very heavy.

_My brothers,_ Wendy kept thinking._ I have brothers. I forgot my brothers- and yet _he _did not. _

"I suppose I shall see you tomorrow, then," he muttered.

He left not long after.

* * *

><p>AN: Aand that's all for today, folks!

Please review and tell me what you thought of the developments in this chapter with Felix, Pan and Wendy. I'd love to hear your opinions!

Reviews are better than chocolate- seriously.

(sidenote: are any of you guys also Captain Swan shippers who feel personally victimised by the Jolly Roger ep? Because dammit nothing about that episode was remotely okay I am drowning in these feels I tell you).


	6. Chapter 6

**Forget to Remember**

Disclaimer: don't own any of the characters I'm writing about, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended at all.

A/N: hi guys! Just a bit of a warning, this chapter is a little dark.

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><p>Michael Darling. John Darling.<p>

Michael and John. Her two younger brothers. That meant they shared parents, of course. What had their names been, she wondered? What did they look like? So strange to think that she had once had a mother and father. Of course, Pan had said that her brothers were older now. That probably meant any parents they'd had were now dead.

"John and Michael," she hissed to herself, repeating their names over and over until her throat felt raw. "John and Michael- my brothers. We lived in a house together. In… in London," she told herself firmly. "London, John, Michael. London, John, Michael."

She would not forget again. She wouldn't allow it. Every moment since Pan had told her the truth about them, she had dedicated herself to ensuring it. She_ knew_ this place had a disconcerting effect on people. She knew that, in time, each of the Lost Boys had forgotten their old lives, their families. But she had never planned on being one of them.

She was Wendy Darling, not a Lost One.

And yet…

And yet she had forgotten, just as they had.

Forgotten her family, her brothers, her old life.

There were others, as well- she knew. Others she had forgotten. Something about a friend, something about a train, a dangerous game. Something about stealing and money. A mother and a child, an affair, a fight. But no matter how hard she tried, that was all she could recall; these details that did one no good when it came to truly remembering.

How truly awful she must be, to have forgotten all that. To have forgotten the way her brothers used to look at her, eyes bright and begging for her stories. To have forgotten that they ever existed.

All this time in the cage with nought to do but think, and they had never once crossed her mind.

_Heartless. _

"Michael and John," she kept going. "Michael and John, my brothers. Michael and John." There was an edge to her voice as she choked and spat the words out, tears clinging to her lashes as she went on. She would not allow herself to think of anything else but them. She would not risk losing them again.

Even if Neverland took everything else away from her, she would have their names.

"Michael. John. Michael. John."

Curly, on guard, spun in alarm as she broke off into a sob, disconcerted by the noise.

"J-ohn," she choked through them, and her tears tasted like salt. "Michael." She curled in on herself, hands shaking as she drew them around her.

"Must you make such a racket?" the Lost Boy said curtly, although he looked away as he spoke. He was not un-used to it; not three nights before, he had been on guard. Still, he had never said anything of it then.

Wendy did not reply; she only kept saying their names out loud until her voice came in rasps and coughs. Then, they echoed on in her mind, over and over and over again.

God, she would go mad with this.

Absolutely mad.

But she would remember them.

* * *

><p>"You're on thin ice," Peter commented, not looking at the tall boy bent into a bow at his feet. He looked most unusual like that, limbs sticking out here and there as he doubled over, but he also looked most comfortable. As though he were used to it. As though he belonged like that, submitting himself to the commands of his leader.<p>

"Pan, you have to believe me," he said, quite unusually flustered. "I didn't know she would try to do- that."

Peter stiffened. He didn't want to discuss what he had witnessed between the two of them. Least of all did he want to hear Felix talk about it, scramble for excuses, as it were. He had expected better of_ him_. More loyalty. More foresight.

"Why were you speaking to her, anyway?" he fired back. "You are under the same instructions as the others, Felix. It is not your job to interact with her unnecessarily. She's a prisoner." He had his orders, and Felix was supposed to follow them. It was as simple as that.

Since Wendy had arrived, it seemed, Felix had lost his knack for following orders.

"She's not just a prisoner," Felix said.

Peter tilted his head, surveying the other boy.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"You're not being honest with me, Felix," he said. "Spit it out. Speak your mind. She's not just a prisoner?"

"To you," Felix said reluctantly. "She's not just a prisoner… to you. That's all I meant."

_Of course she isn't,_ he thought. _Of course she isn't just a prisoner to me. She's a liar, and a cheater, and she's cruel, but of course, she's not just a prisoner. _

But nobody was permitted to say it. Nobody was permitted to think it. Not even Felix.

"That's all?" Peter folded his arms, making his tone as cold as possible. "Did I tell you that Wendy Darling is our prisoner, Felix?"

"Yes."

"And did I tell you that she was anything else?"

"I-"

"The answer is no, Felix," Peter interrupted. "That girl is a prisoner, and nothing more, and you are to operate as such. You are not to speak with her, you are not to have contact with her, and the fact that I have already explained this to you is only telling of your blatant disregard for my authority."

"You remember giving me those orders before, Pan?" Felix asked, a rather odd edge to his voice that Peter didn't quite understand. "Can you honestly tell me that you remember exactly those orders?"

"I remember everything," he said flippantly, and Felix seemed to flinch.

Perhaps, he thought, he was finally realising the consequences of his actions. Perhaps he realised now how he had hurt Peter- although he would never admit it. Felix had always had a way of seeing through that.

"I'm sorry," the Lost Boy said. "I'm afraid I have nothing further to say."

"I'm disappointed in you," Peter said curtly, and he knelt down then, so he could look him in the eyes as he said it. To his surprise, and somewhat to his alarm, the boy's eyes were gleaming in a way he knew, quite unfortunately, too well. "Don't cry," he said. "It's useless and it won't help you get out of this."

Felix dropped his head at once.

"Would you say that to Wendy?"

Peter drew himself back to his feet.

"_What_?" Surely he wasn't serious. Surely he would have the good sense to stop there. And yet,

"Would you say that to the prisoner, if it were her?" Felix repeated, voice unexpectedly clear.

Peter paused, considering him. From the start, Felix had had an abundance of things to say about Wendy; and an abundance of questions for Peter about her. Was she trustworthy, was she worth the game, was he blinded by her? He should know by now where these questions landed him. He should know by now to seal his lips and keep them away from Wendy Darling.

"Shut your mouth," Peter said darkly. "Shut your mouth and do not question me again."

Felix nodded then, rather like an old rag doll.

"Now, if you wish to retain your position as Second in Command, you have work to do. You have to prove yourself, Felix. Are you prepared to do that?"

He was expecting an immediate response. That's what he was used to from Felix, that's what he'd always given him. Immediate loyalty, an immediate 'yes'. Until Wendy- but the boy would soon learn to stay away from her.

This time, Felix said nothing for a long time, head hanging low and close to the earth.

"Well?" Peter said, irritably. "What's the matter? Dreamshade got your tongue?"

Felix flinched then, for the second time that day, and Peter sighed in exasperation, kneeling beside him again.

"Felix," he said, "I meant what I said about Nibs waiting in line. He's been proving himself worthy of your position for quite some time now. But I would prefer it to be you. I chose _you_ for this. You're my Lost Boy," his mouth tugged up at the corners. "You were here first. I want you to stay here. I choose _you_."

Felix's breath hitched, and Peter thought he understood why.

He mustn't have been expecting Peter to offer him redemption like this. He must've understood the depth of his betrayal. But Peter Pan was a benevolent leader, he prided himself on it. Besides, Felix had been at his side for quite some time. Longer than the rest of the boys. He was kind. He was reasonable.

If only Wendy Darling could have conceived it.

Felix cleared his throat, breaking Peter from his reverie.

"Yes," he said, a little unevenly. "I am prepared to do whatever it takes to prove myself. Yes."

Peter smiled, although Felix didn't look up to see it.

"Good."

* * *

><p>"Let my brothers go," Wendy said, the moment he relieved Nibs of his post.<p>

"It's lovely to see you too, Darling," Pan said.

"Don't ignore me," she said cuttingly. "John and Michael. Let John and Michael go. John and Michael Darling in London- John and Michael-"

"Bravo, you remember their names," Pan said sarcastically. His features changed, then, suddenly much more serene than he had been. "The Lost Boys tell me you sit here, day in day out, muttering their names like a madwoman. You realise you cannot sustain it? You realise it will deteriorate your mind? The repetition."

"What deteriorated my mind was forgetting my brothers," Wendy said. "This way I will always remember them, and you will not be able to take them away from me again. Nothing else matters."

"Nothing?" he raised an eyebrow. "My, Wendy, how do you expect to return to your brothers, to greet them, if the only words you know are their names?"

"You're never going to let me go," she said. "I tried, and you stopped me, and you'll stop me again. I am never going to be able to return to them."

"You keep saying 'never'," Pan said distastefully.

"Because I keep meaning 'never'," she replied. "John and Michael-"

"Stop saying their names, you're beginning to sound like old Mister Smee's parrot."

"Smee," she said slowly. "The pirate."

"That's right," Pan mused. "You see, there are others to remember, Darling."

"Smee was on Hook's crew."

"You remember him, then? The pirate Captain you liked so much?" Pan said. "Need I remind you of Rufio, too?"

"Rufio," the ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Rufio was my friend. Rufio was Tootles' friend."

"Rufio was killed by Captain Hook," Pan said sharply. "Before he fled Neverland like a coward without you."

Wendy flinched. "I don't believe you," she said. "You made him leave. Just like you made me stay. Just like you are making my brothers-"

"Goodness, it was nicer when you'd forgotten all about them," Pan said. "You never once mentioned them before. Now you won't cease whining about them."

"Whining?" Wendy said furiously. "You are manipulating them into being your slaves under the pretence of letting me go if they do!"

"Well, it would simply be cruel of me not to," Pan said reasonably. "They know you're alive and well. If I merely showed up, told them that, and left, they'd feel perfectly helpless. At least this way they feel like they're fighting for you."

"Then tell them that I'm dead," she said. "Tell them I'm dead and let them move on with their lives without your bloody interference."

"No," he said shortly.

"I_ hate_ you." She was shaking, he realised. Shaking all over, and violently. "John, Michael. John and Michael. John and Michael- I will not forget them. You will not make me forget them."

"Darling-"

"Why? Why did you remember them? Why didn't I? I'm their sister. You- how did you know I had brothers? How did _you_ remember? _You're_ the monster," she cried out.

"I remember everything," he said.

"Liar."

"I remember important things," he amended. "It's been long enough now that I know how to do that. The island helps."

"Because you're connected to it," she said quietly.

"Mm."

"Either you let them go, or you let me go to them."

"No," he said patiently. "No, I don't think I'll subscribe to that ultimatum, Darling. I do think you'll start to be nicer to me, now."

"You're delusional," she said flatly.

"Am I?" he said. "For John and Michael, Wendy. Be nice for your brothers. Don't you want to be a good sister, now that I've helped you remember that you are one?"

"You've helped me remember?" she said incredulously. "You only let me remember so you could control me."

"Indeed," he said, seemingly untroubled by this. "But you see, Darling, there you have it. You needn't drive yourself mad repeating their names to yourself. I won't allow you to forget them again, because I _need_ you to remember them. How else will I convince you to cooperate with you? Rest assured, you will not forget about John and Michael again."

Wendy hesitated, having not considered that before.

"You need me to remember them."

"Direly," he said, looking at her expectantly.

"You cannot seriously hope for me to thank you," she said at last.

"A thank you? From Wendy Darling? I have no such expectations," he said. "What I do expect is for you to stop this foolishness and speak with me."

"I'm speaking to you right now," she said curtly.

"Ah, but I don't want to speak to you like this," he said. "Tell me, Darling, this game of yours-you know, the one with the arrows and the apples- do you think my new boys will enjoy it? Perhaps a variation, with a moving target-"

"No," she said.

"No moving targets? Have you no sense of adventure?"

"No, I'm not going to do this," she said plainly. "I refuse. You cannot spoil everything and then ask me to speak to you of games as though this is just another one of them."

"Everything is a game, Darling. You taught me that," he said gently.

"Maybe I grew up."

"Impossible," he spat. "You cannot ever grow up here."

"You can't grow taller," Wendy said. "You can't lose your vision, you can't lose your hair. But you can learn things."

"You'll never stop playing," Pan said, as though stating a fact. "I know you Darling."

"You don't know a wretched thing, Pan," she said bitterly. "Not one wretched thing. But if you were right, I would not play this game with you. Not now."

"Not now?" his eyebrows shot up, eyes warming. "That's alright. That's all I need. Not now, but one day. Soon. Later."

Wendy shivered. "You're dreaming."

"I hope so," he said. "You see, dreams have this tendency to come true on this island."

"I thought you were to focus all your energy on finding the Truest Believer," she said. "That's what you said, when you locked me in here. That I was- what was it? Conspiring with Captain Hook to distract you from finding the Believer? Why are you doing this, then? Why are you pestering my brothers, why are you pestering me?"

"The Believer will be found," Pan said surely. "Don't you worry your pretty head about it."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked again, voice stronger this time.

The arrogant smile slipped from his face.

He didn't answer.

* * *

><p>AN: there we go. All in all, quite a dark chapter. I do hope I wrote it okay, I really wasn't sure about it.

What did you guys think of it? Thank you so much to those who have reviewed/followed/favourited since the last update- you're all lovely, and any and all of those things are always appreciated!

Also, I feel like I should put a little disclaimer out now, just so I'm not being misleading: this isn't going to be a happy-ending type love story... sorry...

Having said that, next chapter there will be a semi-big development in terms of Peter and Wendy.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So, first off: I suck. I am actually the worst. I'm really sorry guys, I know it's been a horrendous amount of time since the last update. To be honest, I wasn't feeling all that confident about uploading any more stuff in general, but that isn't a proper excuse, and I'm sorry. I just want to say thank you so much to those who left reviews and prompted me to publish this chapter, and thanks especially to the sweet guest who asked if I was okay :). I guess I just really hope you like this chapter?

* * *

><p>It was countless years later, and Wendy was running.<p>

It was not that the cages that bound her weren't strong; they were. It was that she had spent long enough on this island, watching Pan, watching how he created and destroyed, to know that she would have better luck escaping them by imagining than by hammering at the doors. Imagination and magic- they were entwined, one and the same here, if you concentrated.

So, almost every day now, Wendy concentrated until the locks on the door snapped with pressure and she let herself out.

It was a bizzare feeling, but one Wendy loved from the very first time she'd watched the wood split and splinter away at the sheer command of her own mind.

Power.

It felt like power, and power felt like strength, and strength made her feel reckless; free.

And so, she was running.

The burning sensation in her legs was heavenly after so long spent idle; her muscles cramped at the sudden change, but she didn't allow it to slow her down. She frowned ahead, pausing for a moment. The sea lay directly ahead of her; a sea rich with mermaids and sirens. _Good. _

She did not change her course; just kept going, running into the sand, into the water, racing, trying to beat him to it.

Contrary to what her actions might imply, Wendy Darling was not trying to escape Neverland. Not quite. She knew it was fruitless to try, at least in this way. No, this was merely a game.

Run, run, run, as fast as you can- and wait for Peter Pan to find you.

It was endlessly entertaining to watch him squirm, you see. He didn't want her to believe that he was intimidated by her escape; he didn't want her to believe that he cared if she ran. But, at the same time, there always came a point when he came to intervene; when he couldn't pretend. When she got too far away, when she got herself in danger. Then he came, betrayed by himself and blinded by his obsession.

Not seven nights earlier, she tested his limits, and hers, greatly. She had been running towards the edge of a cliff, no alternate route available- and she merely kept running right up until the drop.

The fall had been something wonderful- the exhilaration, the cold air hissing as she passed it. She had kept her eyes open, watching the blur of colours; of the rocks, the trees, the sand. He had caught her before she hit the ground.

Of course, she hadn't seen him so angry in a long while- not since she had miscalculated her power courtesy of her forgetting her brothers and kissed Felix to test her control.

Since then, things hadn't been so simple, or so easy.

But this game was comforting, at least. Comforting because it felt like trying. Running as far away as she could, it truly felt like she was trying to escape this horrific place, and that was comforting indeed. Comforting because, sometimes, when she closed her eyes, it felt like her game with Pan in younger days.

Water splashed her heels, her ankles, and soon enough it was all around her, soaking through her clothes, chilling her skin in the dark. When her feet could no longer touch the ground, Wendy used her arms, dragging herself across the water, moving deeper and deeper into the ocean. She had half expected the mermaids to be there, waiting in the shallows to drag her down. But, as she grew deeper, no such attack came. The water was unsettlingly still, with no sound but that of her own kicking limbs spoiling the silence. She glanced upwards, somewhat struck by the absence of the Jolly Roger afloat on the water. It had been such a very long time, but that ship was one thing that Wendy could remember clear as day; that proud structure for a proud Captain. That ship that might've become something like a home to her, once. But it was gone now.

Wendy hesitated, treading water as she glanced about herself. God knew how long the sea went out, how far there was still to swim; but as it was, she was far enough out from the shore that she wasn't positive she would endure the swim back in any case. Further out from the island than she had ever been before.

And yet still, there was no sign of him.

"Oh, come on then," she whispered. "I know you can hear me, I know you're listening. Where are you?"

"Right here, Darling."

She wasn't startled, not by his sudden appearance, and not by his proximity, either. She glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, there he was, in the water beside her, his chin almost resting on her shoulder. She leaned away from him, frowning at the smug expression on his face.

"You called?" he added when she said nothing. Wendy raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't ask you to come here," she said indifferently. "I only asked where you were."

"It's the same thing, Darling, and you know it," he said. "You wanted me to come and find you. You want me to take you home."

"Home to the cage, you mean," she replied.

"Home to the island," Pan said, eyes narrowed. "It didn't have to be a cage and you know it."

"It's a rubbish cage, regardless." She gestured at the ocean around her pointedly, if a little smugly.

"It's not a rubbish cage," Pan leaned forward, something akin to pride in his eyes. "I'm impressed, Darling. You're improving. It's not taking you very long to break the locks now, is it?"

"Indeed," she said smoothly. "Maybe one day, I'll improve so much that I'll really escape. Escape you for good."

His jaw hardened. "I'm growing tired of your speculations, Darling."

"I'm growing tired of-"

"It's quiet, don't you think?" he interrupted, an edge to his voice. "Here, in the ocean. No mermaids, didn't you notice?"  
>"Maybe the mermaids sensed you coming and decided they wanted to be anywhere but here," she suggested. "I certainly couldn't blame them."<p>

"Or maybe I killed them."

He said it so rapidly and so harshly that Wendy had barely the length of a blink to register it.

"You _killed _them? You just… killed an entire… you killed them all?" They were awful creatures, she knew, sinister to the boot. Still, a chill came over her as she pondered it. Not that she ought to be surprised. She knew what the boy before her was capable of- it indeed she could call him a boy.

"Of course I did," he said loudly. "Do you know how dangerous they are? Do you know how swiftly they can drown a person? If you had entered this ocean while they lived, if you had swum out into their territory in the dead of night like this, you would've been _killed_."

"Oh, how terrible that would've been," she muttered.

"Stop it," he snapped. "You… need to stop this. This business of running around, throwing yourself off cliffs, wandering into dangerous territories, it must end. It _will _end, now."

"Oh, you've decided that, have you?" she fired.

"I have," he flared. "I told you before, Darling, and I'll tell you again, I am the one who makes the decisions around here. And if you do it again, rest assured, I will not come after you."

Wendy shook her head, an incredulous laugh caught in her throat.

"That is a lie, and you know it," she said.

He froze, then, a look of pure anger- and perhaps embarrassment- came over him.

"That's why you do it, isn't it?" he said slowly. "To see if I will come after you. To _test _me."

"Don't look so betrayed," she said remorselessly. "You use my brothers to test _me_. It is only fair. And guess what? You failed. Repeatedly. Look at you. You killed mermaids today- you killed them all. You don't want me to die more than _I_ don't want me to die."

"You don't want to die," he said. "You don't." Suddenly, his hands were on her shoulders, none too gentle. "Tell me that you don't want to die, Wendy."

"How long have I been here?" she asked him expressionlessly. She was staring behind him, out into the ocean. To where she had once climbed on board a pirate ship. To where she had once heard her brother's voices calling her out to sea. "How long?"

"I…" Pan hesitated. "I know not. Why does it matter?"

Wendy closed her eyes. "It doesn't matter. That's just it. It's been so long that it really just- doesn't matter at all. Nothing matters. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I don't want to die. But I don't want to live, either. Of course, that doesn't concern you at all, does it? You will not let me do either."

"You think I'm not- concerned?" his hands grew softer on her shoulders. Then, most unexpectedly, her pulled her towards him, his arms circling around her back, hugging her. "You stupid girl," he muttered.

"What… what are you doing?" Wendy asked, although she couldn't honestly say that she despised it, after so many years without any such contact. His arms were so gentle around her, and so warm that it fought the chill of the sea. Without really meaning to at all, she dropped her head against his shoulder, too exhausted to think it through.

"I don't know," his voice rattled.

"Free my brothers," she said, because she had not forgotten what he was really doing, behind his wide eyes and honesty. "Then maybe…"

"No such luck, Darling," he said distantly. "Your brothers are doing important work for me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Finding the Truest Believer. Why? What is this Believer supposed to do?"

"Do not think on it," he said abruptly. He did not stop holding her, and she, despite her fury, had not the energy to lift her head.

"I hate you," she mumbled into his shirt- which somehow remained dry despite the water around them. It was most likely a perk of being the king of the island. "I hate you."

"Twice," he winced. "Really?"

"I didn't tell you yesterday," she said. "And anyway, I believe twice the emphasis is in order. You truly are horrific."

"And_ you_ are reckless," he said. "And exploitative, and demanding."

"Thank you," Wendy said, because it sounded like a compliment. In fact, coming from someone as twisted as he, it kind of was.

For a moment, they both let the silence consume them, water lapping against them. Still, nobody broke from their embrace.

Then, "I would never hurt your brothers." He said it matter-of-factly, as though she really ought to know it already. "I would never really kill them, you know. I just need to find this Believer. And I need you to stay."

"I don't believe you," Wendy said. "I want to. But I have seen you torture before. My friend." Her voice quivered. Was Tinkerbell even on the island anymore? Was she even alive? In truth, she had only seen Pan, Nibs, Tootles and Curly since the news of her brothers. "You don't 'need' anything, Pan. You just feel entitled to get what you want. And I don't think there's anything you would not do to get it."

"Why are you so determined to see the worst in me, Darling?" he said resignedly.

"I'm determined to see the truth of you," she said shortly.

"And you see a monster."

"I see a boy playing vengeful God," Wendy said idly. "Doesn't that sound monstrous?". Then, "tell me of my brothers. Tell me… what they look like. Where they live."

"But I am a boy playing vengeful God, Darling," Pan said mockingly. "Why would you anticipate that such a monster would give you what you want like that?"

"Tell me. I won't say please."

"Then what," Pan said in her ear, "is in it for me?"

"I_ hate _you."

"You've said that already," he shivered, glancing down at her.

"No, but I really mean it," she said, gritting her teeth. "I really, truly despise you, Peter Pan." She lifted her head from his shoulder, starting slightly as she realised just how close they were. Somehow, as though transfixed, she found she could not move away. Or at least, that she didn't much want to. It was all instinctive and not at all calculated, the way she leaned towards him for the first time in a very, very long time. Maybe for the first time ever, for all she could recall. It was all instinctive when she caught her breath a moment before she closed the space between them, kissing him the way that she hated him, honestly and recklessly and deeply.

_I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you. _

When at last they drew apart, he was flushed and breathless.

"Perhaps," he whispered, "I am glad of that."

* * *

><p>When Nibs and Curly were commanded to destroy her cage, Wendy made sure that she had a front row view of its demise. They set in on fire as the sun set, using its pieces to fuel their bonfire for the night. As the Lost Boys danced around it, Wendy stood still, warming her hands on her burning prison.<p>

Somehow, despite it being entirely unplanned, entirely impulsive, drawing Pan closer to her that night had served her better than any preconceived action ever had. It was as she had discovered before; Pan was obsessed with her. But her initial plan had been strategically faulty; she had held no real power over him in her policy of honesty; had driven him, instead, to find her brothers and to blackmail herself and them respectively. But from the previous night, there had been a light in Pan's eyes, a smile on his lips, and he had demanded at once that she be freed.

_Freed. _

Not from the island, of course, not completely, but free of rotting away in that cage.

It was more than she could have anticipated, and that filled her with the kind of hope that had not touched her in years.

Hope that she might gain some freedom, some control. Hope that Pan might really be blinded. Hope that this might one day get her back to her world.

It was a constant in her life now, a nagging at the back of her mind, always. Nagging names that she, after all this time, would not let herself forget.

_John Darling. Michael Darling. Brothers. London. Truest Believer. _

True to his word, Pan would speak of her brothers often, reminding her of them if only so that she recalled the leverage he held over her. He didn't know that she told herself the Believer's name over and over, too. Since she had arrived in Neverland there had been whispers of this great Believer- an ally of Pan's, perhaps- an old friend, for he spoke the name fondly and surely. Whatever and whoever the Believer was, it meant something was coming. Something was to change. If Wendy could only find out what it was, perhaps she could try to make something of it- run away and really escape this time. Escape to anytime, anywhere. She no longer cared for what might await her. The idea of escaping, of getting out, was all that she cared for now. Getting out and getting back to her brothers. She felt the fire of that determination more than she did the fire that burned in front of her.

"Enjoying the celebrations?" Pan said, moving to stand beside her by the scorching cage.

"Immensely."

"You don't appear to be," he said. "Look at Curly. He' having more fun than you, and he hates you."

Wendy followed his gaze, taking in the sight of the Lost Boy, sure enough, laughing and drinking as he dared Nibs to step closer to the flames. These boys who had guarded her on frozen nights while she cried, not saying a word. These boys who had let Pan call her 'monster' and believed it. These boys whose faces were round and grinning as they dared themselves closer to the flames like they had dared themselves to step closer to Wendy.

She wanted to kill him. She wanted to push the Lost Boys into the fire, to hold Peter Pan close to the flames so that he burned slower than the rest. Curly may hate her, but Wendy was better at hate than most, and her hands itched to prove it.

But she had a plan, and she had a means of control, now- a way of getting what she wanted, albeit slowly. So, ignoring the urge to throw Curly into the bonfire, she turned instead to give Pan a smile.

"And you? Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Immensely," he mimicked, though he was grinning. He liked that she was talking to him; he liked that she was looking at him, smiling. He liked that she was asking him how he was, and she liked that he did. It was as she had initially hoped it might be- somewhat delayed, and yet still. Still, he cared for her. Still, she could find a way to survive here because of it.

"As glad as I am of that," she said, hoping to gods she didn't believe in that she didn't sound sarcastic, "I am a little troubled about something else."

"What is it?" Pan said, shifting closer to her with a frown on his face.

"My bed is burning," Wendy said, gesturing to the flames. "Where am I to sleep tonight?"

Pan brightened at that, a knowing smile sneaking its way onto his face.

"Come with me," he said. "I'll show you." He brushed her wrist, leading her away from the crowd of loud boys and fire and into the forest. Felix hadn't been amongst the group, Wendy had noted. Nor, in fact, had Tootles. She wondered what had befallen the two of them idily.

"Alone? The two of us? Why, the Lost Boys may get the wrong idea," Wendy said, intentionally speaking with a breathy air about her.

"I don't care what they think," Pan said dismissively, not quite as affected as Wendy might've hoped he would be. Perhaps with Pan, subtle sweet words and implications wouldn't suffice. She decided to put her attempts to increase her control over him at bay for the moment, suddenly curious as to where they were headed. Wendy had explored a great deal of the island before, but she had no recollection of the bushes that surrounded her here. They were lighter, somehow, a young spring green; and there were fat berries crowded on each plant. It looked kind; that was the word. It looked so much kinder than the thorns and dark of the rest of the island.

"It's new," Pan answered her, though she never really asked. "I created it not long ago. I knew you'd like it."

"Whatever gives you that idea?" she murmured before she could stop herself.

"Through here," he said instead of answering, gesturing between two shrubberies.

Cautious, Wendy followed the way, blinking as she took in the sight that awaited her there.

In the clearing was a willow tree, its branches diving almost to the ground from way up high amongst the others in the sky; it's trunk thicker than most. A tiny ladder was attached firmly to it, starting at her feet and going up, further into the branches than she could see from here.

"You want me to sleep in a tree?"

"Climb," Pan said simply, hiding a smile. "You'll see."

Because she did not want to argue now, and because she despised him to much to trust herself with speaking, Wendy nodded, placing her fingers upon a rung in the ladder and pulling herself up.

To her surprise, Pan did not follow her as she scaled the tree, even as she ventured higher between its branches than could be seen from the ground.

It was only when she had been climbing for a good while and her hands were blistered that she saw the end of the ladder. There, amongst green and brown, was something most unexpected.

A small house of wood; a door with a shining green knob fixed in its centre at the ladders end; four windows, wide and with green curtains tied neatly to one side.

"A treehouse," she breathed, caught by surprise as a smile touched her lips. It was rather lovely, that could not be denied.

She reached for the handle, but even so, the door swung open before her fingers could touch it.

Inside stood Pan. Of course, he needn't bother with the climb when he could bloody teleport wherever he wanted. He was grinning, reaching out with one hand to help her up.

Wendy hid her repulsion when she took it, and his grin became a beam, too bright to look at. She fixed her eyes instead on the interior of the little house in the tree. It was all composed of one large room, split into different sections. In one corner- the one closest to her- there was a large bed, covers of white and green tucked neatly into its sides. By its side, a small wooden table with a candle placed atop it. Above it, a dream-catcher borne of the twigs and leaves and jewels of Neverland hung from the flat roof of the house.

Beside that was a slightly larger table, all set up with two log chairs at its side and a wooden plate in its centre, filled to the brim with red and purple fruits.

There was a wooden structure behind which, Wendy recalled, one would change clothes- a pile of such clothes, all in green, sat neatly beside it.

Finally, in the very last corner was a small shelf, as well- the likes of which Wendy could scarcely recall ever seeing. A bookshelf, filled with the small, fat rectangles of cardboard and paper pressed together, printed titles telling her what the stories were to be about.

She had loved them once, she remembered with such clarity it surprised her. She had loved them very dearly.

"Do you like it?" Pan said, although from the pride in his voice, she could tell he already knew the answer.

"Is it yours?" He must have some home, and it would seem natural that it would be here amongst the trees after all.

"Mine?" Pan laughed. "I have no need for such a place. This is yours, Darling. This is all yours."

"It's mine?" she said slowly.

"I thought that was rather obvious," he shrugged. "Didn't you see the books? You like them, don't you? Well, you used to, anyway. Stories and all that. So I made it with books in it. I'm assuming they still interest you."

"You… made it?"

"It was no trouble," he assured her, as though she would've minded if it was.

_I shall not feel grateful_, she told herself. _I shall not_.

Once upon a time, somebody else had shown her a home when she had left her own. Some girl with a wild heart and cigarettes and a crowd of other kids, all lost and found again. She had felt grateful then. And she had been betrayed, she remembered that much.

Peter Pan had already betrayed her. Even now, he was betraying her.

No matter the sentimentalities she felt, face to face with this place; with a bed and a shelf of books, she remembered that he was betraying her.

And, more important, that she must betray him, sooner or later, gift or no gift.

A gift, Wendy noted as she took in the two stools positioned at the table, that was not quite so selfless as it first appeared to be. Two, not one.

_This is all yours._

But not hers alone.

"Thank you," she said. Just because she would not feel grateful did not mean she would not pretend to be. She plastered a smile on her face when she looked at him. "It's lovely."

"So it is," he said, ever arrogant.

Pan approached her, then, arms weaving themselves around her like weeds engulfing a tree trunk.

She did not know if she allowed or forced herself to lean into him, then, but she pointedly decided that it did not matter which one it was.

This- touches like this, 'affection' like this, it was going to free her one day.

Get him to trust her, so that she could abuse that trust; it the surest way to do it.

Whether, in the darkest, most confused part of her heart, she enjoyed this; playing kind, playing at togetherness, it made no difference to the outcome.

When the time came, Wendy was ready to do what she had to do.

And she had work to do, in the mean time.


	8. Chapter 8

Hi lovelies, I can't thank you guys enough for your reviews. 'Guest' account, your review was unbelievably kind, I hope you get an extra scoop of ice cream for free next time you get it; unless of course you're not an ice cream person, in which case, I hope you never have to even look at ice cream again!

Hope you like the chapter :)

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><p>"I do hope the Truest Believer arrives soon," Wendy said, feigned worry colouring her tone. "You don't look well, Pan."<p>

"I look fine," he said, though he looked pleased by her concern nonetheless. "And he will be. He's alive, Wendy, I can sense it."

Wendy smiled, bending to peck his cheek. "I am glad of it."

And so she was.

It had taken time, but eventually, Pan grew to believe her kisses and embraces- perhaps more out of wishful thinking than convincing acting on her part, though she was growing better at lying by the day.

At first he had told her what he had told the Lost Boys; that the Truest Believer's arrival had been foretold by the Island long ago, when it was just he alone residing in Neverland, and that He was to save magic, to ensure that magic lived on forever in this land, and all lands.

But Wendy, who practiced magic every day, knew that this could not be the truth, for the magic in her grew ever stronger, and she tasted it in the thick Neverland air.

So she had spoken to him of honesty; of the importance of understanding one another, and, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to be closer to her, he had told her the truth.

Peter Pan was dying.

He had been on this island for so very long, and while he could live forever, he could not do so effortlessly. He needed the Heart of the Truest Believer to ensure his survival. Literally, the _Heart_. Some poor bastard's belief in everything magic and impossible was going to see him murdered in Neverland; his mortal life for Pan's immortal one.

It was unfair. It was disgustingly unfair.

Yet, "A fair price," she had told him. "A worthy one, for your life." She was telling him what he already believed to be true, reiterating it like a parrot, nothing more. But he had loved her for it.

Now he sat, keeled over a log in exhaustion from the effort of bringing back the mermaids he had killed once before- all upon Wendy's modest request. She had offered kindly to try it herself, of course, but he had insisted upon it, and in so doing, he weakened himself greatly.

Wendy was thrilled.

But the Wendy he knew was devastated.

"There," he said. "They're back, now. They're all alive."

"There to greet any who come after the Truest Believer," Wendy said. That was how she had convinced him to give them their lives back. She reasoned that anyone as important as the Believer must surely have people who would come looking for him once Pan found him- powerful people at that. The easiest way into Neverland was by portal, and the sea that surrounded it must be utilised as a kind of defensive barrier. But what good would the sea do without savage mermaids riddled throughout it?

In truth, she had missed them. Missed seeing their fins flashing in the water. She had been sorry for their deaths. But Pan could not have conceived it.

"That's right, Darling," he grinned. "Quite the strategist you're becoming."

_You have no idea_.

"Why Pan, are you implying that I was not always a brilliant strategist?"

"I am implying that you are a better one now than you ever were," he said, pride in his words. "Mm. How would you rule Neverland without me?" she said coyly.

"With an iron fist," he answered at once, but he was smiling as he said it, drawing her closer to him. "Do not let the others hear of this," he said in a low voice. "They must not fear that I am losing strength. Fear is poison, and I cannot have my boys poisoned. They must remain strong as ever."

"Do not let the others hear of what?" she said innocently, and he smiled again.

"I thought you were fine," she whispered.

"I said I look fine," he said. "And I do."

"So modest."

"I'm not modest," he said hoarsely. "Nor are you."

"Because _I_ am brilliant," she replied.

"Something like that, I'm sure," he gave a laugh- but it turned into a cough. Drawing away from her, Pan retreated to the log, bracing himself over it as his whole body wretched. He had been ill once before, Wendy vaguely remembered, and he had not liked it one bit. But this was a different kind of ill. This was an ill that came from lack of magic, lack of life. He was running out of time. And that meant her time was coming.

Her mind buzzing, Wendy kept her hands on his shoulders, absent-mindedly whispering kindness to him as he recovered.

"How much longer?" she asked, when his coughing had become panting. "How much longer until the Truest Believer arrives?"

"Soon," he said hoarsely, not looking up, not looking at her, though with one hand he reached up to entwine his fingers with hers, where they were still splayed across his shoulder.

"How soon? Pan, you're growing weaker, and the boy-"

"Is_ alive_, I told you, I can sense it," he snapped. "Will you stop asking me about it? You're worse than Felix."

"I rather think I liked it better when you were coughing," Wendy said, a little irritably. She drew her hand away from Pan's, stepping backwards and beginning to walk away.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Pan called after her. Despite his ill health, he bounded to catch up.

"I just worry, is all," Wendy admitted. "I worry that we're not prepared."

"I don't know that I like you pessimism, Darling," he said, teasing now.

"Yes you do, you adore it," she answered simply, and she looked away so that she wouldn't have to lie awake that night convincing herself that the smile that broke across his face then didn't reach his eyes.

That was, of course, made all the more difficult when he lifted his fingers to her chin, tilting her face gently towards his.

"I want you to teach me more magic today," she whispered.

"What's left to teach you?" Pan muttered. "You're a natural, Darling."

"I know," she said. "I want you to teach me to be more than that. I want you to teach me to be you."

"There can only be one Peter Pan," he grinned at her, all the self-assuredness in the word in that grin. "But I will teach you what that means. Go on then, Darling. Make me something. Make me something magic."

Wendy nodded, a smile playing at her own lips. She closed her eyes, feeling her own energy, feeling Neverland's- feeling his, faded and throbbing into the darkness. Her magic was so much stronger than that; so very much stronger, oh, she could break him now if she wanted to.

But not yet, not yet. She had to build, first. Build with her magic, create life, the whole bit.

She opened her eyes to find that he was looking at her, a searching look in his eyes.

She offered him up her palm, opening it to show him what she had created.

An apple, bright in its hue, sat there, shiny and new and born of magic- Wendy's magic.

Peter gave it a measured look, picking it up and bouncing it in the palm of his hand.

"Not bad," he told her. "But the most you can do with one of these is eat it, Darling. Make me something useful." He took a bite out of it and he leant back.

"I was hoping you would say that," she said, because she was.

This time, she closed her eyes and she focused on something else. Useful, he had said. There was only one thing that he had ever found to be useful, one thing that was really useful here.

Something_ sharp_ and cruel and dangerous.

She heard his low whistle before she opened her eyes, confirming her success.

"That's more like it," he was pleased.

Blinking, Wendy looked down at the arrow that now sat on her hand, the tip gleaming with thick dreamshade, the kind of thick that dripped off in chunks onto her palm. She felt the sting of poison when it touched her skin.

It was advanced magic, to create a weapon, Wendy knew that.

But she had mastered this a long time ago. No, there was something else she needed to know.

"Teach me how to use it," she said.

"Like you don't already know how."

"I know how to load a bow. I know how to aim," Wendy said, weaving closer to him as she spoke. "I want to know how to use it with magic. I know you can do it." She was whispering into his neck and his breath hitched as she went on. "It's possible… to just launch an arrow in midair, no bow, no anything- just launch it with magic towards a target."

"It's possible," he said, a kind of slow approval in his voice.

"I want you to teach me how to shoot somebody without having to reach for any weapon. I want to have the kind of power you have." She was saying too much, being too honest. But he cared for her too much now to think anything of it.

"Alright, Wendy Darling. You want to know what it feels like to be me? You want to feel what it's like to have that power?" his voice was hungry, eager, somehow. "You shall."

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><p>"Sleep with me."<p>

"What?" Wendy said sharply- probably too sharply, given that she was currently 'in love with' Pan; had been for quite a while. But there had been countless kisses, embraces, lessons in magic. Never had there been any talk of this; not so blatantly.

She should have guessed. She should have planned, but in between being a manipulative mastermind and behaving like a toddler having a tantrum, she had discounted the possibility that-

"I don't think I mean what you think I mean," Pan said hastily, cheeks flushing pink, to his credit.

"What do you mean, then?" she said, guarded.

"Should I spell it out for you? I would like you to sleep with me. You know, 'sleep'- when you lie down, you close your eyes, and you _sleep_. I would like to do that, with you." His tone was almost ridiculously formal.

Wendy hesitated, unsure if Pan's very literal request was any better than the alternate meaning she had first taken to.

"Why?"

"Really, Darling, why all the fuss? It's a simple enough question, how much justification do you want?" he said, exasperated.

"I have plans tonight," she said blankly.

"Plans?" he laughed.

"I wanted to practice my magic."

"You've been practicing your magic all day," he said. "All day, and every day. It's not good for you, you know. Your magic will burn out if you exhaust yourself like this."

"It's no trouble,' she said. "I'm not the one who needs to worry about magic."

Pan winced at the reminder. Despite his absolute conviction that the Truest Believer was well on his way, she could tell that the wait was getting to him, more so than it had been before, when signs of the Believer's existence had been even less encouraging. Somehow, being closer was making him more anxious. Everything, he had repeated too many times now, had to be perfect. His fading magic, of course, made this easier said than done.

"Take the night off," he said. "What do you say, Darling?"

"I'm busy tonight," she said again, and she knew she was doing herself no favours in denying him. Indeed, after everything she had done to prove to him that her feelings were real at this point, there should've been no question about it. But somehow, this- this naivity; sleeping, lying down and closing her eyes beside him in the dark- this was too personal. Too real, too difficult to pretend. Too vulnerable.

Pan sighed, turning away from her, the stiff set of his shoulders telling her that he was, in all honesty, hurt.

"You think I don't see how you still flinch away from me sometimes?" he said, and Wendy felt a stab of guilt- though whether it was guilt for betraying him, or for betraying her cover, she was unsure.

"I'm trying to do better," he said, and his voice was oddly small. "I've been trying to… I let you go, didn't I? And I brought the mermaids back, I listened to you. I taught you magic."

_You also trapped me, manipulated me, tortured my friend in front of me, my friend whom I don't even know is still alive today- and you found my brothers, you blackmailed them, you are still blackmailing them-_

Wendy feared that if she bit her tongue any harder it would split in two, and hot blood would fill her mouth. She licked her lips, resolved that the only blood that she wanted to taste right now was Pan's.

"I know I've done bad things," he confessed, turning back to her. His eyes were wide, earnest, even. "But who hasn't? You have. That's okay, that's good, that's _why_ I-" he stopped, because despite everything, he was either too much a child or too much grown up to finish that particular sentence. "It's okay," he decided. "It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter," she repeated blandly.

In a way, she supposed he was right. She had done bad things. She was _going_ to do a very bad thing, she was looking forward to it.

It didn't matter.

She turned back to Pan, smiling at him as she sent another arrow flying past his shoulder, propelled by red magic as it buried itself into the trunk of an apple tree and the rotten ones on the lowest of branches fell down.

It didn't matter.

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><p>Hmm, I think Wendy might be planning something, don't you? :P thanks for reading guys, please do leave a review, I love hearing your thoughts!<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: ...heyy guys...so I am awful at updating. Forgive me? Seriously, I will try to get better at this! So, this chapter marks the beginning of the end of this story. An awe-struck and flattered thank you to those of you who have followed, favourited and/or reviewed since my last update. I can't tell you how lovely that is, particularly the reviews! :)**

"Felix." Wendy caught his eye in the dark, too shocked and relieved to smile.

His eyes were bright and rimmed with red, though she pretended not to notice it for his own sake. Not that it mattered. Not that she cared. He was here, and that was the only thing that mattered.

_"__Have you thought anymore about what I said?" _

_Felix didn't look at the girl when she spoke to him, out of contempt or guilt, he was uncertain yet. _

_Wendy would not have it. In an instant, she had disappeared from where she stood, only to reappear mere inches from him, sharp eyes on his. He drew in a sharp breath. He knew she had been practicing magic in that cage, he had suspected it, but he had no idea how advanced she already was. The pitch black fabric of her new dress made waves trail in her wake. She looked like some dark queen. Still, Felix saw what he had always seen in her- before the cage, and whilst she was in it. Even now, standing on the still-warm ashes of the fire that had burnt her cage to cinders, Wendy Darling was a fugitive; dangerous and cunning and nothing like him. _

_"__I don't know what you're referring to," he said curtly. "But rest assured, I haven't been straining myself thinking about anything you've had to say." _

_"__Perhaps I should repeat myself, then," she suggested. "Be a bit more memorable this time." _

_Felix winced. _

_"__That won't be necessary." _

_Truthfully, he had little trouble recalling what she had said to him when they had last spoken alone; when she had pressed her lips to his to show him exactly where Pan's priorities lay. To show him how much 'freedom' he had- how he could leave, and how Pan would not care. He had little trouble recalling he way she had smiled at him, like she pitied him, like she was helping him- little trouble recalling the horrible way that his chest had felt, like with every word a new slab of brick was laid on top of it. _

_"__You could go, if you wanted to, but you don't. You want to stay. And you want me to go," she said, as though he had confessed it aloud, "Well, you're in luck. I don't plan on staying here for the rest of eternity. I am getting off this island. And if you help me pick my moment, I will be gone forever. And you'll have him back. Isn't that what you want?"_

_"__I won't have this conversation with you." He didn't want to have any conversations with her. Yet her topic of choice was undeniably compelling. _

_"__When the Truest Believer comes," she said faintly, as though he hadn't spoken. "I do think that will be the time to do it, don't you? But I'll have to make sure that he is occupied. I'll have to make sure that I have enough time to get out of Neverland, and I must have passage off the island. There are two ways that that can happen, aren't there, Felix? I must find a magic bean, or I must find a fairy." At that last word, he could not help but meet her gaze, and he knew then that it was guilt that he felt. _

_Tinkerbell. _

_The fairy who helped people. Helped Baelfire, helped Wendy. The fairy he had tortured at Pan's command. _

_"__She's alive," he admitted, because he was not so cruel as to keep this from her, though perhaps he was using the wrong word. Perhaps 'not dead' would've been more accurate. 'Alive' implied health, vitality, ambitions, dreams. The fairy he had seen- visited, admittedly, albeit from a distance, had none of these characteristics. Yet, she was not dead. _

_"__You've told me that," her eyes narrowed. "And yet I've searched this island and found nothing, no sign of her presence." _

_"__Nor should you expect to find any," Felix said. "She retains some magic, even now." She used it to create a cloaking charm when she'd found his footsteps several weeks ago, convinced that they were the prints of a Lost Boy coming to hunt her down, bring her before Pan once more. _

_"__You want me gone," Wendy said again. "You want me gone almost as much as_ I_ want me gone. You were willing to do everything to make it happen once. I need you to be willing to do everything to make it happen again. I need you to get me a bean or a fairy, and I need you to help me occupy Pan for long enough for me to get away." _

_Felix closed his eyes. _

_God, if it were possible- _

_But Pan would never forget her; her memory would stay in Neverland like the Shadow, lingering and haunting him, haunting all of them-_

_"__When the Truest Believer comes," Wendy said, softly now. "Find me then. I'll be ready. Make sure that you are." _

"The Believer is here, isn't he?" Wendy trained her eyes on him. "I didn't think I would feel it, but I do."

"We all feel it," Felix said. "We felt it long before he arrived." He swallowed. "I am not… betraying him." He said it loudly, as though it were most important that this was established. In truth, he was not entirely certain that he was doing the right thing- the loyal thing, he reminded himself, for right and wrong had been so blurred for so long that he had come to measure his actions in terms of loyalty as opposed to moral righteousness. He wanted Pan to succeed. He wanted Pan to be strong, free from the compromise and weakness and liability that was Wendy Darling. And if he perhaps also wanted him to hurt- to feel loss, to understand what being ignored and abandoned and forgotten is- well, that was merely coincidental, Felix was sure.

"Of course you are not, Felix," Wendy said. She did not do so mockingly, and Felix was not sure whether to be grateful or not. No, she was looking at him as though she understood. Ludicrous.

"Pan is… occupied with our new arrival," Felix said distastefully. "This boy whose magic is surely well hidden, for all he appears to be. If you are to leave the island, you cannot afford delay."

"I don't plan on it."

"Good," Felix said. "I can… I have found the fairy's dwelling," he confided.

"Tinkerbell?"

"Didn't I tell you she was alive?" Felix sounded annoyed; not that she cared.

These delightfully familiar names were music- better than music, to lonely ears.

"I can arrange for the two of you to meet- when it's next dark," he spoke hastily, and very, very quietly now, the potential treacherous nature of his actions suddenly becoming apparent to him. "Pan is to have a bonfire, to welcome the Believer."

"Perfect," Wendy breathed. "Felix, thank-"

"Don't," he said flatly. His eyes were wide and suddenly his hand was clasping over his own mouth, tightly, as though he could somehow swallow back all the words he had let by.

And if Wendy had been a kinder girl, or indeed, if she could still really call herself a girl at all, she might have comforted him. She might have put a hand on his shoulder, fed him false niceties.

Instead, she nodded. She left. She waited eagerly for the darkness to come.

"Tinkerbell?"

"I haven't heard my name in a long time." The tiny yet firm voice came from behind the curtain, and Felix forced himself to stay rooted to the spot and face the fairy as she stepped towards him, birds-nest hair and all. Her dress was matted with dirt and dust, and her eyes, the only part of her that was still the kind of bright that only a fairy could be, fixed themselves on him. "I didn't think I'd be hearing it from you." Any hope he held that Tinkerbell might have forgotten their last encounter sunk fast to the pit of his stomach.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said quickly, eyes darting down because cowardly or not, her bare, grimy feet were infinitely less intimidating than her eyes. "I'm here because of Wendy Darling."

"Wendy?" Tinkerbell said, pain twisting her face. "You… you wouldn't be here for Wendy. You're lying."

"I'm not. I'm going to bring her here tonight."

"And why would you do that?" her voice was cutting. "You, who wanted Wendy gone? You, who poisoned me- then tortured me, at Pan's command- why would _you_ do a thing like that?"

People had spoken to him like that before. Like he was a worm, disgusting, worse than nothing and worse than everything. But he had never felt like he might deserve it before. Not like he did now.

"I," Felix just stared at her feet, heart pounding in his chest. This was worse. This was so much worse than he had thought it would be- what had he been thinking? Not that he was really clear on any of the decisions he had been making recently. He didn't want to betray Pan- he wasn't betraying him. Yet somehow, sneaking around, tracking down fairies and talking to Wendy, it felt a little too much like betrayal for Felix's liking.

"What will it be this time?" Tinkerbell went on bitterly. "What crime have I committed?". Her hands were shaking, he noticed. However well one can control one's voice when one is overwhelmed or afraid, the hands always prove the hardest to tame. And oh, how she was shaking. How terrifying he must be to her. He was going to be sick.

"I don't think I've made myself clear," he said. "I'm going to bring Wendy to you. You're going to- to help her."

"Help her?"

"Help her leave," Felix said. "Isn't it true that the pair of you once wished to leave this place? I am to help you do it."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" Tinkerbell said, and she laughed. Felix blinked, not quite sure of how to respond. Standing outside her hidden cubby, he had hesitated for some time, thinking of what it might be like, facing somebody he had wronged like this. He had imagined her rage, her cool distance, fear. He had not anticipated laughter- not even the high and unsettling kind. And so he continued to stand there rigid as her giggles became hysterical and the tears began to fall. Tears. That, at least, was something he had imagined, though not like this.

Helplessly, he reached out to her, moving slowly so as not to alarm her, hands palms up facing her so that she could move away if she wanted to. But her eyes were closed, and so his hand fell to her shoulder, as gently as he could manage it.

"How…" he paused. "How have you been, Tinkerbell?"

Her breath rattled as she fought to calm herself enough to form words. She shook her head, looking up at him, a not-entirely-unpleasant sort of surprise plain on her features.

"I've been dying is how I've been," she said shortly. "I've been… god, I've not been_ living_ at all. I mean, I have been existing here, just, existing, but I haven't spoken to anybody, done anything, I… do you know what that's like?"

_Do you know what that's like?_

Felix opened his mouth, to say something uselessly comforting, or to say something harsh, he didn't know. Tinkerbell stared up at him in astonishment when, instead of either, a sob contorted his mouth.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I…"

"It's okay," Tinkerbell said, and a tiny, cold hand was on his arm. Because she was a fairy. Because even now, it was in her nature to be kind, to want to help.

"You shouldn't," he murmured.

"I know that," Tinkerbell said. "But I'm not like you. I won't- I won't grow cold."

"I will bring her to you tonight," he said. "We must be careful."

"And if I ask you why you've decided to help us?" Doubt. Of course there was still doubt, she was a fairy, not an idiot.

"I suppose," Felix said, slowly. "I have decided to help because I am tired of just… existing. Not living. Just being a tool to be used and forgotten. I won't do it anymore."

If it had been Wendy he had been speaking to, she might have laughed at him. Or rolled her eyes, or both. She would not have believed him.

But Tinkerbell was like him. He had made her like him when he had cut her with dreamshade, and whipped her at Pan's command like it was nothing; common practice.

And because She was like him, she understood.

"I look forward to seeing my friend again." She said. She didn't try to say thank you, and for that, Felix was grateful.

**Pretty please let me know what you think- I know a few of you were wanting to see some Felix and Tinkerbell interactions, I hope this is somewhat resemblance of what you were after! Also I feel like I should add, I am super determined to update a LOT faster this time! **

**Next chapter we're going to see the return of some familiar faces.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I feel super bad about never updating, so here's another, longer chapter! **

For a long time, Wendy had not been afforded the luxury of knowing that Tinkerbell was alive. For a long time, she had even believed her to be dead.

And she had believed this to be her fault.

So, what does one do, then, when one finds out that one's best friend- a friend who was tortured before your eyes, _for _you, _because_ of you, because she was, to her core, your friend- so, so much later, stood living and breathing in front of you in the dead of night, chaperoned by the damaged boy who had done the torturing and hiding in a hut made of wood?

Apparently, Wendy thought, one stands frozen on the spot, mouth slightly agape, hands stiff by their sides where they should be raised and spread, anticipating an embrace, welcoming one. Reuniting with Tinkerbell was something that Wendy had only dreamed of. And she had dreamed it to be painful, angry, wonderful, warm. She had not expected it to be… awkward.

_Guilt_. That, she had been expecting. Guilt, as she noted the pale cheeks and shadowed eyes, the mess of hair, tear stains that told tales. All in Wendy's wretched name.

"It's… good to see you," Tinkerbell muttered, trying to make eye contact.

"Tinkerbell," Wendy said, and then she did not say anything else.

"It's been a long time," Tinkerbell said, when the silence grew too uncomfortable for either of them to ignore.

"Since we last saw each other?" Wendy suggested. She heard the quiver in her own voice. "Tinkerbell, what _happened_ to you that day…"

"It wasn't your f-" Tinkerbell began passionately-

"I didn't know if you survived or not," she said bluntly.

"Oh." Tinkerbell dropped her eyes to the ground.

"Yeah." She folded her arms, looked away. "So…"

"I… Pan healed me."

"He told me he did that," Wendy said, expressionless. "I didn't believe him. Not after everything he's done. I didn't believe him. But look at you. Not a scar on you." Not that Wendy was looking at her. She couldn't bring herself to look at her.

"Wendy? Are you alright?" Tinkerbell took a step forward, eyes flitting over Wendy's face, widening, like they were concerned by what they saw. Not horrified, not angered, not scared.

Bloody _concerned_.

"Am_ I_ alright?" Wendy said, and she started to laugh. "You…you're asking _me_ that question? That's rich, Tinkerbell, that is so _rich_ of you." And then she started to cry. And she kept her face firmly angled away as she choked on her words. "You_ stole _my line."

It seemed that Wendy was not the only one who was frozen on the spot, for Tinkerbell remained where she was, standing stiffly, uncomfortably, as she watched Wendy cry.

"I said it first," she said, voice tiny.

"Well, I _thought_ it first," Wendy sobbed, and for a moment the other girl said nothing in return; just a tinkling laugh that died as quickly as it began.

"Well, I'm alright," Tinkerbell said, voice thick. "Are you?"

"Yeah?" Wendy sniffed.

"Good."

"Good."

And then all at once, Tinkerbell had crossed the floor and Wendy was hugging her like maybe she wanted to kill her. And she did. Oh, she almost wanted to kill her for being alive when Wendy believed she was dead.

"I don't mean to interrupt." It was Felix, darting in from where he was crouched, on the lookout for trouble. "But you don't have much time."

Wendy shot Felix a venomous look that he did not entirely deserve before she took heed of his words.

"I want to tell you everything that I planned to tell you," Wendy admitted. "Like how sorry I am, and how stupid you were to stick up for me because you are still not off the hook for that- and how happy I am you're alive, and like what the hell happened to your hair?-, but Felix, on this rare occasion, is right. I have something else I have to tell you tonight, something important. I promise that when I've done what I have to do, I'll come back to tell you the rest."

"Tell me what you need to tell me," Tinkerbell said fiercely. "And I'll hold you to that- because we have a hell of a lot of catching up to do. But first, tell me why Felix seems to think that we're somehow getting off this island?"

"I've got it, Tink," Wendy said. "I have a way. You can fly us out of here, Tink, and this time Pan won't be there to stop us. I'll make sure he's preoccupied. But I need you to help me do it." And by preoccupied, she meant dead, of course, but she wasn't about to say that with Felix standing around the corner.

"What can I do?" Tinkerbell said shortly, not questioning a thing, because that was what support felt like, and that was what a friend felt like.

"The Believer didn't come here alone. Captain Hook has returned- and there are others with him. He'll listen to you. I need you to find out how he got here- maybe he could help us escape. But most of all, I need you to make sure that his friends aren't going to be a problem for us. Let them know we mean them no harm."

"Of course." Tinkerbell nodded. "I can do it later tonight, even. I may hide away, but I am quite the competent spy, as I'm sure you'll remember." There was just a hint of pride in her voice, and Wendy nearly did smile.

"_Wendy,"_ Felix's hiss came again, this time, urgent. "Pan's headed towards your place. _Now_."

"Of course he is," she said bitterly. She stepped back from Tinkerbell, albeit reluctantly. "Find Hook. Tell him- tell him I said 'hello'."

"I will. And Wendy?" Tinkerbell said. "Give my regards to Pan."

This time, Wendy did smile, though it wasn't a very nice one.

"You can count on it."

"I need you to do something for me," was what Pan said when he opened the door to Wendy's haven without knocking.

"Teach you some manners?" she suggested lightly, trying to control the heavy breathing that usually accompanied teleportation magic. She had only had a few seconds recovery time before he had opened the door. If she hadn't made it back in time… but there was no use dwelling on it.

"Hilarious, Darling." He said, crossing his arms. "No, I have somebody I want you to meet."

"The Believer?" she raised her eyebrows.

"You already knew he was here?" he said, looking impressed. "Ah, you can sense his magic too. How strong your magic is becoming."

"I just hope he remembers to knock when he arrives," Wendy said, looking over his shoulder. "Or did he come here with you?"

"He'll be along in a moment," Pan said airily. "And quite simply, Darling, lovely as you are, I cannot have you meet him as…yourself, per say."

"As _myself_? And who would you like me to meet him as?"

"Henry needs to believe- but not in me. No, this is a boy who needs to believe in himself. It's obvious- the way he speaks, the way he reacted when I told him he was destined for greatness. This is a boy who surrounds himself with heroes but does not believe himself to be one. He _needs_ to believe he's a hero. I need him to see why giving me his heart is the way to do that."

"You could tell him the truth," Wendy suggested, unable to keep the cynicism from her voice.

"Or he could come in here and find you, a bed-ridden girl- sick, dying, and under my care, dependent upon me- Neverland- for survival. Innocent, kind, that sort of thing. I need you to pretend that to be _that _girl. Can you do that?" He was too close to her again, but these days, he always was.

"_Can_ I? Your lack of faith wounds me," she smirked at him.

"I'm not doubting your ability. Merely your conviction. You've had moral objections to my plans before," he said, serenely. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do."

It stung her more than his insults, his threats, ever could. This kindness, this show- for a show was all it was, all it _could_ be- of pretending that he cared for her consent.

_He did not care to seek my permission when he unleashed hell on my brothers,_ she told herself.

"This is about your life," she said, and she met his eyes when she did. "How could I have moral objections?"

Of course, she dropped her eyes before she could see his own gaze soften; the smile that made him look almost human.

"What would I do without you, Darling?" he said, before he drew a finger to his lips and motioned towards the door. It was time for him to disappear.

_What would you do without me?_

_Probably, kill the Truest Believer. _

This ticket to freedom. As Wendy threw herself into her bed, messing up her hair, closing her eyes, she couldn't help but feel intrigued. Henry, Pan had called him. The little boy who wanted to play hero. It was about time that they met.

"_Tinkerbell?"_ Hook's sword-hand was shaking in his haste to drop his weapon. He hadn't changed much, she mused. Same old outfit. Same hair. Companions? Not so much. He had traded Smee and the crew for a couple of do-gooders, a dark haired woman whose power Tinkerbell could practically taste in the air, and a blond whom Hook seemed all too preoccupied with before Tinkerbell decided to reveal herself to the group. All in all, they didn't seem like his type of travel companions. They were not scarred, tattooed, covered in leather. Who knew how different a man he was, now? Who knew if he would even help her?

"Captain," Tinkerbell said cautiously. "You remember me?"

"Don't be daft, love. 'Course I _remember_ you. I'm just so glad to see you alive and well," he said, with a grin that had her taken aback.

"I could say the same thing," she said, unable to keep herself from smiling at him now. "Don't get me wrong, I was happy when I heard that you were able to finally leave this place. I had not thought I would ever see you again."

"I hate to interrupt what I'm sure is a _very_ touching reunion here," it was the woman with the dark magic. And what power it was. Tinkerbell was almost envious. "But would you mind telling us _who_ this unfortunate creature is, and how it is that you two know each other?"

"Regina, there's no need to be rude," the woman with short, dark hair and a smile a little too bright put in, and she flashed that smile at Tinkerbell now. "I'm sorry. We're all a bit on edge right now. My name's Mary Margaret. You're… Tinkerbell? How _do _you know Hook? You're a-fairy, aren't you? It's just, one wouldn't typically associate fairies with pirates."

"I am," Tinkerbell said, pleased. "But, it might also be obvious that I'm not your typical fairy."

"What happened, you got rejected from Fairy School so you thought you'd try your hand at piracy?" the woman- Regina, Tinkerbell reminded herself- spoke up again, eyebrow raised.

"In a nutshell?" Tinkerbell said. "No, I… I've lived here for a long time. Longer than I can remember. It's the only home I've ever known. In my time here, Hook was one of the few people I came to call a friend." She gave him a grateful smile.

"You know this island well, do you?" Regina said, exchanging a look with the blond. A weighted one. "More so than the pirate."

"I suppose you could say that."

"And that makes you my new best friend," Regina gave her a grin that wasn't entirely pleasant, but wasn't entirely bad. This, Tinkerbell sensed, was not an evil woman. But from the way the others treated her- the way that they eyed her, stood slightly aside- alerted her to this woman's capabilities. Perhaps, her history. What_ had_ she walked into here?

"Because you can help us find where Pan has taken our son," the blond one spoke, at last, and her voice was quiet, but that did not mean that it was not strong. And she wasn't smiling. Her mouth was pressed in a tight line, like she didn't have the luxury of smiling at strangers or making friends.

"Your son?" Tinkerbell said, bewildered for a moment. "You don't mean… oh goodness. I suppose it'd be silly to assume he didn't have family…"

"You know about this? Do you know where the boy is?" Hook asked her, an intensity in his voice. He stepped closer to her. "Love, it is great to see you, but this is very important. Their son, he's been kidnapped by Pan. And you and I both know how this could end." He said the last part quietly, meant only for her ears.

"So his name is Henry," Tinkerbell said slowly, and she raised her eyes to meet the blond woman's; the one with the fire in her eyes. "Your son. I'm sorry. I don't know much. But I do know that Pan believes your son to be the Truest Believer. He thinks that your son is the key to saving magic- to saving this island. And he has been looking for him for a very long time. I don't know much else. But I do know one thing. One thing that you'll all have to understand if you want to save Henry." She glanced at them, this mismatched crew of Hook's. She had their full attention now, and there was not a single face that was not full of concern, anticipation, hope. Perhaps this boy truly possessed some kind of magic, she thought, to bring such different people together. "Pan is not going to let him go easily. He will be expecting a fight- he'll be looking forward to it. He likes games, but he only plays to win. And he may look like a child… but you cannot let that make you underestimate him."

"Aye," Hook said grimly. "Tinkerbell's right. He may look like a boy, but he's a bloody demon. Don't give him the benefit of the doubt. If you have a shot, you take it." He was directing this at Mary Margaret and the man at her arm.

"We'll do what it takes to get Henry back," he said, casting an assured look at the blond. "There's no need to worry about that, Emma."

"Can you help us, Tink?" Hook asked. "If there's anything you can do-"

"I would like to," she said. "Really. But I actually had another reason for coming here, to talk to you. It's Wendy."

At that, Hook looked up, incredulous. "Wendy Darling?" There was a rough edge to his voice that smelled like guilt.

"She's been Pan's prisoner." Tinkerbell had lived through too much to sugarcoat anymore. Hook paled, cursed under his breath. "Since you left. But with the arrival of the Truest Believer, Pan is distracted. We think that we might be able to take this opportunity to escape."

"Running off at the expense of my son?" Regina said, unimpressed.

"Wendy _needs_ to get out of here," Tinkerbell snapped. "You have no idea how long she's been trapped on this island. It's not ideal that a boy gets exploited in the process, but that was inevitable. At least this way, maybe something good can come of it. All we ask is that you know that we're not here to harm you. That you don't intervene with the plan. That includes not harming Felix- he's a Lost Boy who's on our side."

"Felix? That bastard is working _against _Pan?" Hook whistled. "Things have changed in my absence."

"What if we can do better?" Emma said slowly.

"What do you mean, 'better'?" Regina said cynically. Hook cast her a look.

"What is it, Emma, love?" he said, more gently than Tinkerbell thought him capable of.

Emma barely gave him a second glance as she continued.

"Okay, we want to get Henry back, right? And you want to get out of here. I think we can help each other out," at Regina's look, she went on, "look, clearly Tinkerbell knows more about Neverland than any of us-"

"Not offended at all, just so you know," Hook said gruffly.

"- if you'd be willing to help us find where Pan's got Henry, we would be so grateful. But you don't want grateful, right? I mean you've been stuck here, without hope, for god knows how long, and I know what that feels like. No, you want something else. A promise, then. Safe passage out of here with us. I promise you, none of us want to stick around here for very long. If we can help it, we'll be out of here in a few days. If you help me get my son back, I promise, we will take you back with us, the same way we came- with the Jolly Roger. We'll welcome you and this- Wendy- to our hometown." Every word was genuine, earnest. There was no doubting her sincerity. And yet-

"That sounds lovely," Tinkerbell said kindly, "it does. But you don't know Pan like I do. He doesn't lose. And we can't afford for him to catch us and find out our plan before we've left."

"That doesn't sound very fairy-like," Regina said sharply, stepping in front of Hook to look Tinkerbell in the eye. She was beautiful, Tinkerbell noticed. The kind of beautiful that can only come with the kind of fierceness, the anger, ebbing from Regina at that very moment.

"And that sounds more like an insult than it sounds like you wanting my help," she replied coolly.

"How_ dare_ you?" Regina said. "Just so we're clear, _Tinkerbell_, I don't care if you don't think you can handle a boy King who owns an island. I am a woman who owned a kingdom, and my people- my own people- called me _Evil Queen_. I know how to _be_ someone feared by everyone, I can match this Boy and his Neverland, and I know that they can be beaten, like _I_ was beaten. And there is nothing- nothing- that will keep Peter Pan safe from me until Henry is back with his family where he belongs. Do you understand that, fairy?" she hissed the last word, breath hot on Tinkerbell's neck.

"I understand," she said, taking a step forward. "_Evil Queen_. I hope you're as powerful as you say you are. I hope you're as ruthless." Because earnest words and promises and good intentions were wonderful. But this was Neverland, and this was Peter Pan. You needed an Evil Queen to bring him down, even for a second. Even for long enough to free two captives and bring them home.

"I am." Regina said.

Tinkerbell nodded, and then she addressed the group as a whole, all waiting in silence for her reply.

"Then yes. Yes, I will help you find your son."

"Rescuing the Boy was not part of the plan," Felix said tightly. "Not the one I agreed to. We need him to save Neverland, I won't stand for this."

"My plan. It wasn't part of _my _plan," Wendy reminded him, her arms folded. "I wasn't expecting this either." After playing her role in meeting Henry- a boy whose wide-eyed trust would have been patronising were it not so damn genuine- Felix had come to her side, uneasy and tense at the news. Cue the meeting at dark , in an entirely different section of forest so as not to draw suspicion, and a myriad of protective spells surrounding the three, should Pan or one of his Boys approach unexpectedly. Spells that Wendy was getting rather good at.

"What was I supposed to say? That poor mother," Tinkerbell burst. "I'm sorry if this complicates things, I am. But isn't this better? We have a witch on our side- a powerful one. We have Hook. What's the harm in getting more unwilling prisoners off this island while we're at it?"

"The harm is that we get caught this way," Wendy snapped. "We don't get off the island- nobody does. The boy was to be our escape. He was supposed to be the distraction, while we got away. If you think Pan's going to be taking his eyes of Henry for a second-"

"We'll find a way," Tinkerbell said earnestly. The look she gave Wendy was enough to hurt. Her eyes were wide with surprise; perhaps even disappointment. "I don't know what you've been through being his prisoner through all this time. But I know what I have, and I know that I am desperate to get out of here. But we can't… we can't shut everything out. We can't shut empathy out completely, or we'd be like him. You taught me that. We'll just have to make sure Pan's isolated… trap him, somehow. Like-"

"Like in the Echo Cave," Wendy said thoughtful. "But he told me so long ago that the island knew his secrets already. It was no trap for him."

Tinkerbell looked crestfallen.

"That…" Felix hesitated. "That might not be true anymore."

Wendy and Tinkerbell shot him a look, then.

"Explain. Now," Wendy said testily.

Felix looked at his feet, then back at them, looking quite uncomfortable indeed.

"Recently… Pan requested that we bring a prisoner into the Echo Cave."

"Prisoner?" Tinkerbell asked.

"Get to the part where we can trap Pan there," Wendy said impatiently. "If you please."

Felix swallowed hard. "He requested that we do it. Pan doesn't do that. Not when it comes to the Echo Cave. It's too much of a bother- us having to go in, reveal our secrets, then leave again. Besides, if they're important enough to subject to the Cave, he likes to do it himself. You know how he is," he added reluctantly. "But not this time."

"So you're saying that he has a secret? Something the island doesn't know?" Tinkerbell said.

"Or something that he doesn't want the island to know," Wendy breathed, heart beating faster.

"I think he can't go in there anymore. Not without revealing something that he doesn't want to reveal," Felix said, his every word glum, like he desperately wished he was not saying what he was saying.

"You must really want me out of here," Wendy mused, eyeing him with a grin. "To tell us all of this confidential business."

Felix didn't say anything; merely shifted on his feet.

"Very well, then. I suppose we have our way. Leave it to me to get him to the Cave. Tinkerbell, I leave it to you to work with Hook and his companions. Tell them that we get to rescue their kid. They'll be thrilled, I'm sure. And tell his mother," she added, "that she raised him well. The boy has refreshing manners. You'll Find the boy, and get to the Jolly Roger. I will meet you there, once I know he's trapped." _Once I know he's dead_.

"You've met him?" Tinkerbell said, surprised. Felix, too, was frowning at her.

"Pan put me up to it," Wendy shrugged. "Who was I to refuse his majesty?"

Tinkerbell gave a dry laugh.

"I'll let them know," Tinkerbell said. She smiled. "I told you we would find a way. How difficult was that?"

"We were just lucky that Pan asked Felix to deliver the prisoner to the Echo Cave," Wendy said, but there was warmth in her tone. "Speaking of, this prisoner," she turned to Felix. "Anyone we should know about?"

"Funny you should ask," he said. "I believe you both are familiar with Baelfire."

"Bae?" Wendy breathed, frozen for a moment. "Do you…Baelfire is here?"

"A little older," Felix said distastefully. "I'm sure. But yes."

"After all the work I did to get him out of here," Tinkerbell said sadly.

"I have to see him," Wendy said adamantly, wildly. "If he's really back, I have to."

"Sure thing. Just drop by the Echo Cave," Felix said sarcastically.

"Why didn't you tell us it was him?" she demanded, suddenly furious.

"You didn't exactly give me the chance," he replied.

"He's right, though," Tinkerbell said heavily. "If Baelfire is in the Echo Cave we can't do much for him now. I'll find Hook. We'll see what we can do next. Perhaps we can find a way to free Baelfire, Henry, and you," she said, turning away, closing her eyes, reaching her magic outwards to see if she could sense Hook's presence.

"I'll come with you." It was Felix. There was a surprise.

Tinkerbell glanced over her shoulder at him, puzzled. Wendy had stopped what she was doing, too, a warning look on her features.

"Will you?" Wendy said sharply, and the look on her face let Felix know that she hadn't forgotten how Tinkerbell had suffered at Felix's hand before.

"I've just supplied you with, as you put it, highly confidential information. Now you don't trust me?" he retorted, and Wendy opened her mouth to argue, but,

"It's alright," Tinkerbell said firmly. "I can handle myself."

What seemed like gratitude settled in Felix's eyes, and he nodded a farewell to Wendy, ignoring the daggers she continued to send his way.

"I'll see you both very soon, I expect," she said to their retreating forms.

Tinkerbell continued walking, slightly ahead of Felix, and she did not slow down and wait for him to catch up- not that he seemed particularly interested in catching up. After a few minutes of walking in silence, he had slipped even further behind her.

"Why are you coming with me?" Tinkerbell asked eventually, because the question was nagging at her. "You're not going to reveal yourself as a double-agent, are you?"

"No," he said simply.

"Then… why?" she did stop, then, waiting for him to catch up. His hood had fallen over his face, and you could barely see his scars in the dark. He looked almost… sad.

"Do you know the stories the Lost Ones tell about you? The fairy who betrayed Pan?"

"I gather they're quite entertaining," she said dryly.

"It doesn't matter if Pan healed you, or if he made everybody forgive Wendy. You're not under his protection the way she is. And if they found you alone in the dark, they wouldn't act kindly."

Tinkerbell shivered. "Hypocrites," she hissed. "Who are they to make out like we're the monsters if that's the way that they behave?"

"Worse," Felix answered matter-of-factly. "They aren't boys, they're creatures."

"And you're walking with me to protect me from them?" Tinkerbell said, a softness to her voice now. When he said nothing, she said, "You're better than they are. What I said before, about empathy-"

"I remember," Felix said. "And you believe that Wendy has lost hers. At least in part."

Tinkerbell nodded. "You've retained yours, haven't you?"

He shook his head. "I never had much to do with empathy."

"Don't say that."

"It's the truth," he said bitterly. "Never had anybody to feel empathetic for."

"Your scar," Tinkerbell said, and Felix stiffened. "I won't ask you what happened. I'll never ask," she said hastily.

"I should have known better," he admitted roughly. "I shouldn't have done what I did to you. That was… when I realised that I had to do better. That I'd grown cold. And that he had."

"Because he wasn't always," Tinkerbell said, knowing who he was talking about, though he had not said Pan's name. "Was he?"

"No, he wasn't," he sniffed.

"Come with us."

Felix started.

"You don't have to decide right now," Tinkerbell said calmly. She had stopped walking completely now, and took a step towards him. "But consider the offer. I think it might be good for you to be away from him, and I think you know that."

"How could you possibly know-" he began hotly.

"I used to care about him too," she reminded him, and he stopped short, staring at her in disbelief. He had not come here intending to speak so honestly with the fairy whom he had had all but one non-hostile encounter with. But instead of feeling like he'd said too much, he felt relief.

"Think about it," she smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I can hear the mother's voice now from through those trees. I think they'll respond better to me than to the two of us, don't you?"

**Sorry about the formatting, guys, it's gone all weird :(. I'll try to update a lot faster and finish this story up soon! Reviews are so very much appreciated I can't even say- in particular, I was worried about the part with Team "Operation Cobra Rescue" in it- I kinda suck at writing multiple complicated and opinionated characters all in the same scene. How'd I do? Any tips at how I could improve at that? **

**Thanks for reading, as always :).**


	11. Chapter 11

Baelfire was back.

It was Tinkerbell who confirmed what Felix had told them in the dark, and it was Tinkerbell who shared her dread, the sinking feeling that accompanied the realisation that the boy that they had both once known had grown up, only to be returned to this place he had fought to get away from- had _succeeded_ in getting away from.

"If Bae couldn't do it for good," Wendy muttered. "What chance do we have?"

Tinkerbell couldn't answer, so instead, she elaborated.

"Hook and the others went to the Echo Cave to save them. They had to reveal their darkest secrets to get to him, of course. Part of Pan's game."

"Of course it is. He means to break them," Wendy said colourlessly.

"And he's succeeding," Tinkerbell said, no less bitterly. "It seems that Emma- Henry's birth mother, the woman that Hook- well, anyway. It seems that Emma and Baelfire were involved once."

"My Baelfire," Wendy murmured. "Having relationships, history. At least he has that to show for his escape, however temporary it was."

"That's not all, Wendy," Tinkerbell said, chewing her lip. "There was more to it. Baelfire is Henry's father."

Wendy glanced at her sharply. "What?"

"I know," Tinkerbell said. "It's difficult to conceive, isn't it? I saw him, too. He's a man now. I know I should have gone to him. But I didn't. I knew Baelfire. Who knows who he is, now? I heard them call him 'Neal' like it was his name. Perhaps that was because it is, now. At least Hook is more or less the same."

"I remember Hook," Wendy smiled. "I wanted to be one of the pirates on his ship. I would've happily called him my Captain."

"How are you, Wendy?" Tinkerbell asked delicately. "It can't be easy- hearing about Baelfire, I mean. You came here for him, I remember that."

"Just as you were punished. For him." Wendy shrugged indifferently. "You said it, Tinkerbell. Who knows who Baelfire is anymore? He grew up in ways that I could not grow up here. I'm glad for that. But I am not the Wendy Darling that he knew, either. I would not think it wise for him to meet me now- to see who I've become."

"You say that as though you have become something terrible," Tinkerbell said gently.

Wendy didn't flinch. "Do I?"  
>"I'm a fairy, Wendy," Tinkerbell said. "A bit of a rubbish one, I'll admit. But I don't befriend terrible people."<p>

"Oh, Tinkerbell," Wendy said, a little sadly this time. "I think you have befriended all the wrong people."

Tinkerbell glanced at her, uneasy, but for the life of her she could not think of anything useful to say, so she didn't.

"So, I take it the Believer's family don't want to delay," Wendy said briskly, and when the fairy inclined her head in confirmation, she folded her arms across her chest. "Well, neither do I. When the sun next falls. Tell them that's when they'll be free to storm the camp. Tell them to send my regards to Henry. And tell them that if they miss this opportunity- and do be sure to repeat this to them, Tinkerbell, quite clearly- they will suffer for it, and they will not receive another chance like this again, maybe forever."

"Not so optimistic," Tinkerbell mused.

"They think they know loss," Wendy said, a vacant look in her eye, "because their boy has been trapped here for all of three days and three nights. Because they have been manipulated by Pan. But you and I both know that they still have everything to lose. Make sure that they know it."

"Giving them hope, encouragement- _that_, of course, wouldn't be helpful at all," Tinkerbell said a little reproachfully.

"No, it wouldn't," Wendy said with upmost serenity. "We need them to do this right, too, Tinkerbell. We have everything to lose too. And we have been planning this- I have been planning this- for more years than many of Hook's friends have ever lived. So no, it wouldn't be helpful to tell them to think happy thoughts. One false move; that's all it takes."

"They know the stakes," Tinkerbell said, gently now. "But I'll tell them."

"It's too dangerous," Neal grumbled, kicking up dust as he paced the forest floor. "How does Wendy plan to trick Pan? He'll find out something's going on, and when he does, he'll blame her." Once he had been filled in on her a) survival and b) role in this rescue mission, he had been in a state one part anger three parts worry.

"She will be careful," Tinkerbell said, for the benefit of the motley crew that stood sporting agitated expressions and shifting feet around him.

"It's not a matter of merely being careful," Hook agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "Not with him. Wendy is brave, but she was brave before, and we both saw the cost. She nearly died the last time she went against him. She did die- surely she remembers that? The only reason that girl is alive is because for whatever miserable reason, Pan wants her to be."

"What are you saying, Hook?" Emma said testily. "That there's no hope?"

Despite everything she must be feeling, her voice did not waver as she met his eyes. Hook hesitated, then, regret clamping his mouth shut, as though he should've known better than to speak so frankly around _her_.

"You will have your son back, Swan," he said, a promise. "Neal just worries for the fate of an old friend- as do I."

"If you're worried too, why don't we go after her?" Neal appealed, turning to Hook in a whirlwind of thoughts that ran off the tongue. "We can keep her here with us, where he can't find her; we'll find another way to Henry, together. We still have that- that Lost Boy, don't we? Why can't he distract Pan while we rescue Wendy _and_ Henry? Tinkerbell, you helped me get off this damned island last time, I know you can do it again."

"Enough of this. Every minute we waste arguing about this Wendy girl is another minute my son spends in the hands of a psychotic child elf," Regina said hotly.

"Regina, she's a _kid_," Mary Margaret put in before Tinkerbell had a chance to.

"Not uncommon on this island by the sounds of it," Regina said. "Besides, Pan's not planning on taking her heart. It's my son who's in danger here."

"Our son," Emma said mildly, but she did not object to the rest, and for this, she looked guilty.

"Wendy can do it," Tinkerbell pushed back her own feelings of unease. Neal opened his mouth again, no doubt ready to fight for the fate of the Wendy who Baelfire knew and loved, but Hook gave a grave nod.

"Tinkerbell is right, mate," he said. "Like I said, Wendy's brave. But more to the point, Pan once went to great lengths to keep her alive. If she's smart- and she is- she'll use that to her advantage."

"He loves her?" David guessed, hand tightening over Mary Margaret's.

"It seems so," Tinkerbell said helplessly.

"True Love, used as a weapon," Mary Margaret said. "I almost feel bad for him."

Emma, Regina, Neal- they all shot her a look. But Hook just met Tink's eyes over Emma's shoulder and remembered how ugly, how human, his nemesis had been that day on the deck of his ship, as Wendy lay without feeling, without pulse, without life.

"Almost."

Pan smiled when Wendy appeared in front of him, with naught but the trembling of leaves left to hint that it was magic that had got her there.

He smiled, and she wished that he wouldn't, even as a smile of her own stretched across her cheeks in response.

"Practicing again?"

"I do think I am almost done with practicing," she said. "Don't you?"

He folded his arms as he approached her, eyebrow raised as he appraised her.

"Hmm," he mused, "You've improved. Dramatically. Barely making a sound with your magic now. And you tracked me using magic too, I suppose?"

"Impressed yet?"

"Terribly," he grinned. "I must thank you again for what you did for me; with Henry. Quite the actress, Darling."

"It was my pleasure," she titled her head, pulled him closer. "I haven't seen you much since he got here."

"It's not been easy. I have to stay with Henry wherever possible. If he doesn't trust me, this won't work. But he's starting to, Wendy. Thanks in part to you, of course," he rolled his eyes. "I can feel him starting to believe in me- don't you? The magic grows stronger the longer he's here. It won't be long now. When it's next dark, I think-"

"I've missed you," she interrupted, firm but soft at the same time.

"Oh," he stopped short, eyes wide. "I didn't…" he looked at his feet, and then at her, before he smiled sheepishly.

"You didn't what?" she said, tracing over his smile with her fingertip without quite understanding why. It was the kind of smile she liked best on him. It was also the kind of smile that made her stomach lurch and her chest twist and tighten, like guilt becoming intimate with hope.

"It doesn't matter," he cleared his throat.

"Tell me."

"I…" he glanced at her again, just kept _glancing_ at her. It was maddening. "Didn't think you did."

Well, she hadn't. That was just it. She hadn't. So why in heavens did hearing him say it feel like such a slap in the face?

"It was alright," he said hastily. "I didn't mind. I mean, I did- I didn't think that you seeing me like this was a good idea."

"Seeing you like this?" she repeated, a question.

"Dying," he said it with an air of gusto- or he tried to. It seemed he no longer troubled himself with trying to hard around her; to be cocky. To be loud. To be in control. "Trying to make this boy trust me so- well, as close to desperately as one such as I gets."

It was Wendy's turn to "oh", and Pan's turn to trace his fingertips over her arms, down to her fingers, brows furrowed like he was trying to solve a riddle, trying to understand cloud patterns or make sense of day and night.

And then it was Wendy's turn to remember herself, and to make her play.

_Like old times._

"You shouldn't worry about that," she said. "What you should worry about is making it up to me."

"How forward of you, Darling," he said. "Go on, then. I assume you have something wonderfully fun in mind."

She nearly smiled.

"How long has it been since you and I played a game, Peter Pan?"

**A/N: so there will be a maximum of 2 more chapters, but I'm thinking the next chapter may well be the last one. So to anyone who miraculously is reading this in spite of my awful updating habits, at this point I just want to say thank you so very much. You guys are lovely and your cute reviews give me life :). Also, on the topic of the final chapter, a few things:**

**a) this chapter WILL be updated soon; aka within the week, and that is a promise. **

**b) this will not have a happy ending**

**c) Another spoiler alert: basically everything that's been left unsaid, unnoticed or deliberately hidden from either Peter or Wendy respectively is going to be addressed **

**d) I really, really hope you enjoy it!**

**As always, I'd appreciate hearing your thoughts on this one. **


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: hello! I'm afraid this chapter isn't as good re quality as I'd hoped; I may edit it and re-upload it in the future, but for now I wanted to update on schedule as promised. There will be another update following this one- an epilogue- but this is the last real 'chapter' for this story. I really, really hope that you like it- or more so that it makes you feel some feelings. I would love to hear your thoughts! Thank you so much for those who have reviewed, followed and/or favourited- it makes me so happy :). Hope to hear from you!

"Say something I'm giving up on you

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

Anywhere I, would've followed you

Say something I'm giving up on you"

~feelsy song

The end began with his smile, spreading slow across his features until she couldn't_ not_ remember the first time she had ever beheld him; the very first time, when she was young and in love with magic and he barely acknowledged her existence. Couldn't _not_ remember his face when she bested him for the first time; his face when he had fashioned her old world clothes into Neverland's own.

_"__How long has it been since you and I played a game, Peter Pan?"_

"Too long," is what he had said, like a child on Christmas morning who hadn't imagined that Saint Nicholas would find him this year through the thick of the snow.

She had explained the game to him- hide and seek, but not quite, and following the leader, but not quite that either. With a blindfold on, one person would be lead by the other about the island. Correctly guess where the leader has taken you, and you win the round. The winner names their prize.

"If I win," Pan had said- 'if', and not 'when', and almost blushing, "will you lie beside me this night?"

Wendy's nod was absentminded, but he either did not notice it or did not want to. He had tied the blindfold over her eyes in oblivion (Wendy thought it best to give him the first turn; to suspend the pretence that this was a game she might let him win).

She did not name her own price. This, too, Pan did not notice.

He had taken her to the Crystal Cave, first, and it was beautiful. The lights danced with the darkness, and the water was cool on bare, worn feet. When she guessed where she was, he kissed her forehead before he took her blindfold off, and it was her turn to pretend not to notice.

Her hands didn't shake when she secured the blindfold across his eyes, and they didn't shake when she took both his hands in her own.

"You know I have been practicing my magic," she had whispered to him. "I want to show you what I can do."

And she did. The moment before she reached for her magic- the moment before she led him blind into her trap- she knew that the flutter and crawl of her insides were no consequence of the betrayal she was about to enact, but were instead the result of some strange anticipation, some eagerness to see whether he would approve. Whether he would be impressed, proud of what she could do- for, he had told her once, the Echo Cave was a place where her magic should not work; one of the indisputable mysteries of the island.

What a thing to think about, as she had closed her eyes. As she had held his hands tightly. As she had transported them, through air, through space, across the island, into the Echo Cave.

What a thing to think about, as she pushed his chest, hard, so that he fell to his knees in the centre of it all- as she stationed herself at the very entrance; too far for him to reach.

What a dreadful thing to think about, for it meant that, when he opened his eyes and saw where he was, the disappointment that she saw there _stung._

She waited for his anger. For the temper that had seen him torture fairies and lock up a frightened girl and banish a pirate and a Lost Boy. She waited for him to give her a reason, one final reason, to reach for the knife hidden well in her boot.

"Oh," he said. And then he said it again. "Oh."

"I do remember the last time we played a game, Darling," Pan said, quiet because in spite of the distance between them now, he knew she could hear him. "I suppose I should have remembered it better. Your magic… it's impressive. You shouldn't have been able to bring us here."

"Don't tell me you really believed it," she said harshly, "that things could go back to the way they were. Don't."

"What are you playing at?"

"Still bitter over my win last time?" she goaded- she goaded him when she should be killing him.

"You didn't win," he said calmly.

"Nobody likes a sore loser, Pan." She could feel the cool steel of her blade against her ankle. She could feel her fingers, agitated, eager to grasp the hilt. But they wouldn't move to do it.

"You didn't win," he went on, voice faint to Wendy's ears, "because you _died._" He spat the last word, and he whispered it. And, when she looked up and met his eyes, shocked, he lowered his head, as though ashamed that he had ever spoken it in the first place.

She was listening, now. She was frowning.

"I think I would recall my own death," she replied. "More to the point, I think my existence now serves as proof that I didn't die." She tilted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. "Are you so desperate to have won that game as this?"

"I'm not lying," he said, and his words were not laced with anger anymore. He looked up, resigned eyes finding hers. "I didn't want you to leave Neverland, so… so when my Shadow took you away, I commanded that He drop you at once. So he did. And you fell. You fell into the sea. By the time you were brought onto the deck of the pirate's ship, your heart," his voice cracked, "your heart wasn't beating."

"How is that possible?" Wendy said, the ghost of a whisper.

"This is Neverland, Darling. If death posed a significant barrier here, I would've died oh so long ago," he said, just as gently.

"Because you're connected to the island," she said. "But I'm not."

"You _were _not," he said. "But now…" he hesitated. "After what I did…"

"What did you do?" she asked warily, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. The knife at her boot was at the back of her mind all the while, taunting her. She could end it, she could end this before he told whatever miserable, twisted story he was weaving. She could do it.

"I saved you," he said simply.

"No."

'Saved'. It sounded like benevolence. The Good Samaritan, the hero, the friend. 'Saved'. Like dying was the worst thing that might've happened to her. Like he had spared her some awful fate in favour of a better one.

"I used my magic to restart your heart," he told her, gently. "Your heart… there was barely a hint of darkness in it, Wendy. The darkness you were so afraid of did not exist."

"You can't have," she said slowly. "That kind of magic is too powerful- it would've killed you." It would've killed you, and I wouldn't have to.

"It tried to," his smile was sad, but it was not sorry in the slightest. "Why did you think I am dying, now? Why did you think I needed the Believer so urgently?"

It was not sorry in the slightest.

"No," she said again.

"I didn't want you to know," he said, as though he couldn't hear her. Maybe he couldn't. "I didn't want you to think that I cared that much. So I… I put you in that cage."

"You locked me up," she said incredulously, "You would rather lock me up than tell me that you risked your life to save mine?"

"I'm sorry," he said uselessly. "Do you hear me? I'm_ sorry_. I'll say it again, if you want."

"I don't want your apologies, Pan."

"I released your brothers," he said suddenly, and Wendy was so stunned that for a moment she could not bring herself to speak at all. "Before you showed up today. I was going to tell you, after our game."

"Why?" she mouthed, and she wanted to be close enough to him to shake him, to hug him, to slap him. "Why the hell would you do that- why now?"

He smiled a sad smile- the only sort of smile he seemed to be capable of.

"Don't make me say it," he whispered. "You don't really expect me to, do you? Isn't that why you brought me here? To trap me, because I won't say it. Are you working with Henry? For his family?"

"I'm working for me," she burst. "Don't you understand? I just wanted to go. All you had to do- _all you had to do_- was let me leave. Just because you stopped me then doesn't mean I stopped wanting to go."

"To go where? Do not tell me Neverland isn't the only home you've ever known, do _not_," he shouted.

"And isn't that awful, then? Isn't it awful that I am a bound slave in my own home?" she retorted.

"Not anymore," he spat. "Didn't you hear me? I let your brothers go. I won't use them against you anymore, or you against them. I'm _sorry_. Once, that was all you needed to hear from me."

"Once, I loved you," was all she said, and he winced when she did.

"What are you waiting for, then? Go," he said roughly. "Leave me here. But you should know something else. If you don't," he caught his breath, "if you change your mind and you stay here just a while longer, I'll say it. My secret. I won't tell Neverland, but if you stay, I'll tell you."

Oh, god. That was all. He thought that she had brought him here to buy herself time to run. He had not yet imagined, in spite of everything that she had done to him, and he to her, that she might have brought him here to more permanent ends.

The knife. _All_ she had to do was reach for the knife. And yet.

"Wendy," he breathed, sensing her hesitation. "If you feel anything… anything like the way I feel… if the last few weeks have been anything but lies through and through, you won't do this. If there's a chance- a fraction of a chance- that you could forgive me, or pretend to forgive me until you do, or anything- if you are even the slightest bit glad that I saved your life- stay." He stepped forward, hand cupping the air as though he meant to stroke her cheek, if only she were closer.

Like he had once before.

And Wendy made the mistake of looking at him while he did it; of hearing the words as they scraped against his throat, raw and unpolished and everything that he wasn't and was. Heaven and hell forgive her, but her heart hurt for it. For him.

The knife in her shoe was heavy, reminding her of its presence; but her fingers were no longer itching to retrieve it, and nor was her heart.

Because she was. She was even the slightest bit glad that she was not dead.

But that did not mean that she could stay. She was never going to stay.

"I loved you," she told him again, distantly. It was all that she could think to stay.

And then she turned around.

And walked away.

Knife secure and unbloodied in her boot.

And she wasn't looking back, because she knew what she would see if she did; the face of the boy who had entranced her, challenged her, scared her, loved her, not understanding that walking away from him was not an act of abandonment, but an act of betrayal; of holding onto whatever terrible thing they had once had.

She wasn't looking back, she wasn't looking back, she wasn't looking back.

She really, truly, was not going to spare even a single glance.

And then she heard the gunfire.

She heard him cry out in pain before she heard the thud, but that gunshot- that _gunshot_- it was echoing throughout the cold, dark place, and through the forest- through the island. And the skies went dark, and thunder mimicked the sound of the gun even as it began to rain, softly, at first, like a cool mist.

She heard a scream, then, a high pitched one, and it was the sharp grating in her throat that told her that it was she who was screaming as she ran back to him.

"Peter!" she was frantic. Why was she frantic? "_Peter!_ Oh god, oh god, oh my god."

And it seemed the island already knew every secret she held in her heart, because as she ran through the entrance to the cave, a bridge of stone began to build itself before her, as fast as she was running and appearing just in time to catch her feet when they pounded on the ground on her way to reach him.

It seemed somebody else had reached him first.

Skidding to a halt, dizzy from running, breathless from the of screams, Wendy took in the sight of him; this boy, always so powerful, even when he wasn't, now motionless and covered in blood darker than Wendy had ever seen before, with even more leaking from a hole in his stomach. So much blood, he was drowning in it.

"Peter," she repeated. "Peter." It seemed she was incapable of saying anything but his name. The name she had refused to say for so long; but who had she been trying to fool? He had always been 'Peter' to her. Peter and not Pan. That was the way it had been, the way it was supposed to be. She just had to wake him up, to tell him that-

Suddenly her hands were shaking over his chest, pressing down on the bullet hole. His eyes were open and glazed, his fingers cold. He was dead. She knew he was dying- had known for years, but he had never looked like it. He had never looked anything like this before.

"I…I didn't mean to…" a new voice, but a familiar one.

"Who did this?" Wendy found herself crying out, and she swung around, fists curling into themselves, fingernails drawing blood from her own palms-

And there he was, standing near the entrance, so far to the left Wendy had missed him entirely when she ran in.

Gun in quivering hand, eyes wide and mouth open, ugly tears streaming down his face.

There he was.

"Felix," she whispered. "Oh, Felix, what have you done?"

The Lost Boy just shook his head, and in a messy clutter the gun fell to the stone floor.

"Is he…" he began.

Wendy turned back to Peter, placing her hands over the place where his heart should be beating; then on his temple, his neck.

"Nothing," she croaked. "There's…I feel nothing."

Dead.

Peter Pan, dead.

It felt wrong; the island felt wrong. Like killing Peter Pan should take more than a single gunshot; more than a trick, more than a Lost Boy and more than Wendy Darling. Killing him should've taken an army of magic and brute force and cunning all at once.

Any moment now- any moment, and he would awake to tell them that; no doubt as smug as he had always been, and he would make her hate him again. Maybe he would lock her up, or Felix, this time.

"I killed him," Felix said, some nameless horror in his voice making Wendy shiver. "I… I didn't… I just… I heard him talking about everything he did for you. I didn't know he brought you back to life. I didn't know… and I was angry…"

Wendy could barely hear him. There was a ringing in her ears, growing louder and sharper by the moment.

"Peter," she shook him, hard. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, it's a bullet. One bloody bullet."

"He's gone," Felix said astonished. Devastated. "He's really gone."

"Why?" her voice cracked. "Why is he, though? Why did you-" she threw her hands up, unable to finish the sentence, unable to register why she would want to ask it in the first place. She was crying. She was so bloody sick of crying- but crying over _him_, over his body-this was somehow worse.

"I love him," Felix said uselessly.

"Do you kill all your objects of your affection?" she snapped at him, and he flinched. Good. Good, she told herself. He deserved it.

"He can't be dead," he said, through grit teeth and tears and a tongue swollen from his biting down on it so hard. "He is Neverland, he can't…" he gasped, "what are the others going to think?"

Wendy didn't answer. She was staring at Peter, and she wished that she could say that he looked like he was at peace. But there was blood splattered on his face, and his lips were closed tight, the furthest thing from a smile. He looked sad. Broken. _Dead._ Those eyes, the eyes that made her feel all sorts of awful and wonderful things, there was nothing in them anymore. None of the hurt or promise or stupid, stupid love that she had seen there only moments ago.

"I'm sorry," Felix cried. "I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't think, I… I love him. I just wanted him to..."

"He can't hear you," Wendy growled.

"I know," Felix breathed. "I know." And there was some note to his voice that made Wendy look up from Peter, made her turn around.

"Felix," she was saying, and then she saw what he was doing- the gun, pressed to his temple- and then she was yelling instead. "Felix, don't-"

"He shouldn't be alone," his lip trembled, "wherever he is." He looked at Wendy, and she had never seen him more clearly. The ragged scar distorting features that might once have been beautiful; eyes bloodshot and red and tiny from tears, stained cheeks and hollowed cheekbones and that trembling mouth; that tall, tall boy who had been made to feel tiny his whole life. To feel like 'second place', to feel like some strange kind of monster. She saw him, and she understood.

And so it was

That Neverland heard its second gunfire.

And somewhere in the distance, the Truest Believer was attached to his mothers at the hip. And Captain Hook was smiling at Emma, and his Crocodile shook his hand, and they made their way back to the ship in the storm.

And somewhere further, a fairy waited for her friend to return from her mission.

To kill Peter Pan.

The mission she had not dared tell Felix about, because of course, of course, Pan's most loyal Lost Boy would want to save him. Of course he would.

Wendy watched him as he collapsed to the stone ground, snapping the bones in his arm as he did. He did not cry out in pain. He could not feel it.

Both he and his master, his friend, the boy that they had both mistakenly cared for under impossible circumstances, could not feel a thing.

And so she felt the pain for both of them.

A/N: I did say this one wouldn't have the happiest of endings... :P


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